


cold as a bird once free

by bravestyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Crying, Depression, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Human Trafficking, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Slow Burn, Wordcount: Over 100.000, break up (between louis and nick), but it is not a main part of the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:21:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 154,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21946498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravestyles/pseuds/bravestyles
Summary: A flick of his lighter. The burning of a filter. A release of smoke.Over and over and over again, until Louis' half convinced that the repulsive smell isn't from the cigarette, but from his lungs shriveling and burning. He hasn't smoked in so long, not since he stopped shortly after Harry went missing, and he promised himself he'd never start up again, but here he is. Down seven cigarettes and in a shitty motel in California.California. Of all places, after all these years, he's wound up in California.or,Six years ago, Harry got kidnapped and forced into sex trafficking. And now he is back.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 83
Kudos: 335





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> title: bird - billie marten
> 
> Disclaimer: this fic is pretty dark and heavy. It handles many dark/serious themes. please don't read if you don't think you can handle it. also, i don't know anyone involved in this story / i don't claim any of this to be true. 
> 
> also -- to be clear, louis and harry were dating, and after he went missing, louis got engaged to nick. nick and louis are together in the beginning of it, but eventually break up and harry and louis get together. don't let the nick thing bother you if you aren't a fan of him or tomlinshaw :)

A flick of his lighter. The burning of a filter. A release of smoke. 

Over and over and over again, until Louis' half convinced that the repulsive smell isn't from the cigarette, but from his lungs shriveling and burning. He hasn't smoked in so long, not since he stopped shortly after Harry went missing, and he promised himself he'd never start up again, but here he is. Down seven cigarettes and in a shitty motel in California. 

California. Of all places, after all these years, he's wound up in California. 

It's warmer here than it is in New York. Since it's only the beginning of March, both places are still in the icy grip of winter, but the sun seems more dedicated here than back home in Queens. There's no snow, which is good. Louis fucking  _ hates _ snow, always has. It's deceptively pretty, it's freezing, and when it sticks, it turns to gross brown slush in the streets. The only time he can tolerate it is when his siblings beg him to. 

As he works on his eighth cigarette, he wonders what the temperature is like in India, where Nick is. A part of him wants to look it up to keep his mind busy, but he knows if he were to look at his phone, there'd be texts and calls from people he doesn't want to talk to right now. He doesn't know why they keep calling; he barely knows anything himself, and he wouldn't want to speak to them even if he did know anything. The only person he wants to talk to is his fiancé. It's three in the morning in India, though, that much he knows. He can't be bothering him in the middle of the night for something he can't do anything about. 

His mom's one of the people who keep calling, and she's probably annoyed with him, because even though Anne's trying to keep the news under wraps for now, she's undoubtedly heard by now. Jay has a way of finding out everything, which was irritating when he was running around Queens doing things he shouldn't have been as a teenager, but now, he's kind of glad she already knows. This way he won't have to figure out a way to tell her.

That doesn't mean he's going to answer her calls, though. 

Anne didn't do a great job of breaking the news to Louis. She called him at eight o'clock in the morning, while in a cab from an airport in California to the hospital. He was out taking Moose for a walk, so he ignored her first call and figured he'd get back to her later. She called again, which is something she knows better than to do with him. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, Moose tugging on him encouragingly, and answered the call. 

The first thing she said was apologize. Louis was confused -- what was there to be sorry for? But then she explained that her and Gemma were already in California, that she couldn't wait for Louis and needed to get there as soon as possible. Louis gripped Moose's purple leash tightly at that, because there's no reason for Gemma and Anne to be in California. They both work, they both have daily obligations in Queens. They wouldn't have left unless it was for something important. Unless it was something to do with Harry. 

He closed his eyes, nausea pooling in his stomach. A minute ago, he felt perfectly fine, and now he feels lightheaded and like he could puke. He knew what she's going to say, he just knew it. Harry's finally been found dead. His body was probably found in some ditch, abused and cold and hard and blue. It's the only thing that could make sense. People don't get scooped up in one of the most brutal sex rings in the United States and make it out alive, especially after six years. It just doesn't happen. Louis had to swallow that pill a long time ago. 

"Is he -- ?" he asked, chest aching. He didn't want to hear her say it. He'd imagined this exact conversation hundreds and hundreds of times before, has imagined her saying those words to him --  _ "He's dead, Louis," _ \-- but to have been about to actually hear them was terrifying. Even after all these years, a stupid part of him held onto hope. And now he was finally going to have to fully accept that Harry was dead and that he wasn't going to come back.

It's not like Louis hadn't already mourned the loss, though. Harry was his boyfriend of four years, and his best friend for almost four times that; he had to grieve or he would've gone insane. He went through all the stages of grief, anger lasting the longest. He went to a funeral with an empty casket, all dressed in a suit and tie, because it was what Anne needed. He placed his stupid varsity jacket from high school in the casket with trembling hands. Looking back on it now, it seems so juvenile, but Harry had told him that it made him feel safe. Protected. Louis wished as he watched the casket being lowered into the ground that no matter where he was, alive or dead, it would protect him. 

He'd done all that. Went through it all, felt every bit of it. He even found himself a fiancé in the process of it all, which should maybe lessen the blow if it, but it wouldn't. To actually hear the words said aloud, to have to attend the same funeral with a now-full casket. . . He wasn't sure if he could do it all over again. 

"No," he heard Anne say. "He's alive, Louis. That's why we're in California. He was brought in at a hospital here. You need to come here as soon as possible."

Louis' pretty sure he's still in shock, and he probably will be until he has to say it out loud to someone. He wants to call Nick so badly, but he knows he should let Nick get his sleep. He also knows he'll completely break down, and he hasn't allowed himself to do that yet. He's just been staring out the window that looks out into a crummy street and silently hoping he's not dreaming.

How fucking cruel would that be? 

He lights another cigarette and brings it to his lips. He knows he should probably slow down, especially since he's starting to get a massive headache. And yet the only thing he can do is be thankful that whoever stayed in this motel room previously busted the smoke detector and nobody's been bothered to fix it. 

He's on his tenth one when Anne calls him again, and his stomach swoops dangerously. She told him she'd give him a call once he's landed so she can update him on Harry's health, and he's been dreading it. It's not going to be good. There's literally no way it's going to be good. 

Anne lists everything wrong with him like it's the hundredth time she's doing so, her voice strained and almost mechanical. She starts Louis out slowly -- malnutrition, dehydration, anemia, a few cracked ribs. It's not good,  _ obviously _ , but Louis' heard it enough times in his life from TV to know exactly what to expect and what it means.

Then she starts explaining to him that Harry's got some sort of respiratory infection, a minor concussion and Hepatitis C, which sounds a lot more scary. She's quick to ease his nerves a bit by telling him that it's not too serious, and then corrects herself by saying it's not going to kill him. 

She must suspect Louis needs a second to process the severity of those things (although he can't do it properly because who the fuck just knows what Hepatitis C is?) because she stays quiet for a minute. After a moment, she then goes on to report that Harry also has something called a scaphoid fracture non-union, which makes Louis snap and tell her that he doesn't know what any of it fucking _ means _ . 

"It just means he had a previously fractured wrist that never healed properly," she explains calmly. She's always been so gentle, has never hardened over time. "He's going to need surgery for it."

He feels dizzy and his lungs ache. He wants to see Harry so badly, to evaluate his condition for himself, but Anne told him before his flight that it's in Harry's best interest to stay away for now. And Louis understands it, despite how badly it hurts -- Harry's undoubtedly traumatized and scared. He's not going to want people swarming around his hospital bed like vultures, even if it's only Louis, who he's known since he was a baby. 

"There's a few more things that need to be addressed, but I'm not sure he'd like me to share that with anyone," she murmurs, guilt laced in her voice. "Detective Winston told me, even though that's technically not allowed. It's quite private, love, so forgive me for not telling you."

He doesn't let his brain try and work out what that might be. "Okay."

"He's -- God, Louis. I wish I didn't have to be the one to tell you all this." She inhales sharply. "He seems to be experiencing severe withdrawal. They haven't had the chance to speak with him about it, since he had to be sedated when he was brought in, but it's bad."

Anne glosses over that bit like it's not important. Harry had to be fucking  _ sedated _ . He was probably terrified and panicked, and the doctors thought it was the best course of action to stick him with needles to make him stop. It seems inhumane, like Harry was being too much of an  _ inconvenience _ for them. Jesus Christ, did they even try to understand?

"They're guessing heroin," Anne continues in a pained whisper. "He's got track marks up and down his arms from a needle. They ran some tests, but Detective Winston says they haven't come back yet."

Heroin.  _ Heroin. _ Harry barely even drank when they were younger, and now his body is folding in on itself because it's become dependent on _ heroin _ . It's enough to force Louis to light another cigarette. 

"But he's gonna be fine, right?" Louis asks, voice hoarse. "He's mostly alright?"

She sighs again. "He'll live, if that's what you're asking. But Louis -- " she pauses, uncertain. Louis leans his head back on the chair. "He's not going to be the same. Surely you know that, but I think it needs to be said."

Obviously, Louis knows this. Harry's twenty-six now, and the last time Louis saw him in person was when he was only twenty. He's all grown up now, although maybe he's not. Maybe he couldn't grow wherever he was. And Harry's been through so fucking much, Louis can't even fathom it. There's no way Harry's going to walk away from this unscathed, either emotionally or physically. 

"How'd they find him, anyway?" Louis asks abruptly, because he hasn't even thought of that. This entire time, the entire flight over, he's been mulling over the fact that Harry's alive and completely disregarding anything else. 

"Detective Winston said the California police department had been closing in on a particular group for a little while now. He didn't know about it, or else he would've helped and told us." Her voice is thinning. "There's about five other families here, Louis. There's a handful of other families in other hospitals. He wasn't the only one saved."

It makes him even more dizzy. Comprehending Harry being involved in something like that is hard enough, but to try and rationalize how the same people have changed the lives of so many others, just like Harry's and his family's, is too much to try and process. It makes no sense how they've barely had any leads for six years, and now, all this has happened.

"When can I see him?" he asks slowly, changing the subject. All he wants is to see him, and he knows Anne is trying to protect him, but there's no way Harry's not going to want to see him. They were best friends for sixteen years and dated for four; Louis knows Harry will want to see him. He has to.

"I don't know, alright?" she says, short. "I've only been able to see him asleep. I'm his mother, you know? I want to be the first face he sees."

"Can I least come to the hospital?"

Anne sighs. "Louis, dear. I know you're concerned, but he was only just found. He's going to need space, he's going to -- the police want to question him. Gemma and I want to speak to him. He's going to get tired easily. We don't want to overwhelm him with everything, okay? We think maybe it should only be Gemma and me for now. For a little while, even."

"You can't possibly expect me to wait here and just not see him," Louis snaps, hurt. "He's going to be overwhelmed, yes, but don't you think I deserve to see him? It's been  _ years _ , Anne.  _ Years.  _ I want to see him."

"How's Nick doing, Louis?" Anne retorts, voice cold. It makes Louis wince, her throwing him in his face. She's stayed so gentle about everything but Nick. She's nice to him when they see one another, plays civil, but she despises him, what he means to Louis. 

"That's not fair," he breathes out. "I know you don't like him much, but he's my fiancé. And him being that doesn't make Harry any less important to me."

"I know," she agrees quickly. She almost sounds shocked at herself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't have," Louis mutters, still hurt. 

Over the years, Gemma and Anne have not tried to hide their disdain for Louis finding another love. They weren't open to meeting him, even after Louis promised he wasn't trying to replace Harry. They said he moved on too quickly; Louis reasoned that it'd been over three years. And then when Nick randomly proposed to him and Louis said yes without hesitation, they were even more upset with him. Gemma had given him a look of betrayal when Louis told her, and she's apologized for it profusely, but Louis still sees her face every time he looks down at his engagement ring. 

They aren't stupid, him and Nick. Obviously, they've moved quite quickly. Louis moved into Nick's house after only seven months of dating. Louis felt like absolute scum when he had moved out of his and Harry's apartment, but it hurt Louis so badly to see him everywhere but him being nowhere near. It was too much to be there, surrounded by him. He'd been wanting to move for a long time, but he had nowhere to go, unless he wanted to move back in with his mom. 

Nick proposed to Louis sixteen months into their relationship, so they've only been engaged for about fourteen months. They've decided to wait a while to actually get married, so it's not like they're impulsive and stupid. They've thought this through. And Louis' genuinely, truly in love with him. The only part of him he doesn't like is that his job requires him to be gone all the time, but Nick's promised that'll stop the second they start seriously talking about kids. 

Harry and Louis took it slow. At first, they were cautious so they didn't sacrifice their friendship. They wanted to be sure it could work. And when they were sure it would, they waited a year and a half to move into together, to be even more sure. They didn't want to fuck everything up, and then everything got fucked up anyway. 

Point is, Harry and Louis did everything right for four whole years, and then Harry was ripped away from him. He can't be blamed for doing things a little bit different with Nick. Besides, it's turned out alright so far. 

"Come tomorrow," Anne offers, breaking the awkward silence. "Give him a day to relax and to figure some things out. Come tomorrow afternoon, after we know for sure how he's handling everything."

"Okay," he agrees weakly, because what other choice does he have? "Okay. Tomorrow afternoon."

Louis nearly cries with relief when he gets Nick's daily call. He answers it quickly, heart hammering happily. It's morning where Nick is, even though it's nearing evening in California. 

"Hey, babe," Nick hums, voice rough. He must've just woken up. Louis' heart swoons. 

"Hi," he whispers. He clears his throat before sitting up in bed. He grabs the remote of the nightstand and mutes the television. "How are you?"

"What's wrong?" Nick asks, ignoring Louis' question. "You sound upset."

Louis closes his eyes, itching for another cigarette. He's going to lose a lung by the end of today. "Nick," he starts, and then stops. How does he tell him that Harry is alive and back? How does he tell him that he's in California? He's going to have so many questions, and Louis barely has any answers. 

He swallows thickly. "Do you have time to talk?"

"Yes," he replies immediately. "Anything for you, you know that. What's wrong, love?"

Louis rubs a hand over his face, sighing loudly. He's probably worrying Nick like crazy. He just needs to say it, to rip off the band-aid. Nick will know what to say, how to make him feel better. He just needs to let Nick make him feel better. "I'm in California," he settles for. 

"California? Why?" When Louis doesn't respond right away, Nick lets out a tight laugh. "If you wanted a vacation, you should've came and seen me in India. The foods great here."

"Nick," Louis says again. Both of them are terrible at this type of thing. "This is serious."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Louis opens his mouth to say _ it's okay  _ or  _ don't be _ , but instead, he finds himself blurting, "Harry's alive," and, well. There it is. He ripped off the band-aid, and there's a festering, rotting wound under it. "He's here. In California."

"Oh," Nick murmurs after a long minute, clearly shocked. " _ Oh.  _ Oh, fuck, Louis. That's -- that's incredible, babe. That's -- how is he? How are  _ you _ ?"

"He's pretty banged up," Louis admits, although he decides that's all he's going to say about that. "I'm. . . I feel like I'm dreaming, or something. Like this isn't real. Like I don't deserve this."

"Of course you deserve this. Of course you do."

He bites on his lip, not quite believing that. He moved on, he's engaged to another man. In what world does someone as selfish as Louis get what they want in life? It doesn't make any sense. 

"Have you seen him?" Nick asks, curiosity bleeding through his words. 

"No. Anne doesn't want me to yet." He pulls on his hair. It's not fucking fair. "Tomorrow afternoon I'm gonna go."

Nick's quiet for a moment, and then, "How's he settling in?"

_ Settling in _ , like Harry's capable of that right now. It's not like he's adjusting to a new bed or a different house, he's been ripped away from what he's used to for the second time. He went from a normal life, to a life of torture, and now he's being shoved back into a normal world. He's different now, though. He's not going to fit in the same mold; the seams of him have been ripped and sewed to make him look like something entirely new. Harry's not going to wake up and automatically _ settle in _ , it's going to be a process. A long, hard, drawn-out process. Louis knows that, and so should Nick. 

Still, he tries to keep his patience. It's not like Nick's has had any time to process this, and maybe it's not up to Nick to care at all. "Anne hasn't talked to him yet," he says. "I don't know how long he's been at the hospital, but they had to, like. They had to sedate him, I guess. Because he wasn't complying. And he hasn't woken up yet."

"Shit," Nick murmurs. 

Louis nods. "Shit indeed."

A silence falls over them, and as Louis picks at a loose string on his sock, he realizes he was wrong. Nick doesn't know the right things to say right now. He can't rely on Nick for making him feel sane again. It makes Louis feel even more lost, because it proves the severity of the situation. Nick always knows what to say, always knows what to do to soothe him. If Nick Grimshaw is at a loss of words, then they're all fucked. 

"Do you want me to come home?" Nick asks slowly, unsure. 

_ Yes _ , is what Louis really wants to say, but it's no use. Nick has business to attend to in India for the next two weeks, and Louis doesn't know how long he's going to be in California for. He assumes the plan will be to get Harry back home as soon as possible, but even then, it's not like Nick can stand too close to this. Harry has no idea about him, or about the fact Louis' planning on marrying someone else, and it seems pretty obvious that it should be kept like that. He shouldn't have to deal with that on top of everything else.

The idea of Harry finding out about Nick is truly, truly terrifying. 

"I'll call you when we get back to Queens," Louis dismisses, sad. "Maybe then you can come home, but right now I don't really see a point. It's not like you'd be with me in California."

"Right," Nick agrees, seeming a little too understanding. "And the animals are being looked after?"

It burns something dangerous in Louis' stomach. Nick's worried about the  _ animals _ while Louis' trying to keep it together in a random motel in California because his ex-boyfriend has been rescued after six years of holding on. Maybe it's unfair to be angry, because Nick didn't know Harry. Nick doesn't have an emotional connection to this. Louis can't expect him to care as much as he does. 

"Yes," he assures stiffly. The last thing he wants to do right now is argue with Nick, so he's not going to snap at him over something stupid. "My mom's going to take care of them until I get back."

"Alright, love."

And Louis recognizes that tone of voice -- Nick needs to get off the phone, and apparently he wasn't telling the complete truth earlier when he said he had time to talk. Sure enough, the next words out of Nick's mouth are, "I'm sorry, babe. I have a meeting in thirty, and I -- "

"It's fine," Louis says, the words said with a bit of an edge to them. He doesn't want to hear Nick struggle to find the words to let him down gently. "I should probably give Anne another call, anyway. See if anything's changed."

"Text me any updates, okay? Text me everything." He sighs quietly, and there's some rummaging around on his end before he says anything else. "I love you. And just try to remember that even though everything might seem scary right now, this is exactly what you've wanted for almost a decade. He's alive, baby. Try and hold on to that."

"I will," Louis murmurs. That's exactly what he needs to hear. He needs to be reminded that Harry might be in shambles, but he's alive, and only a few miles away from him. It thaws the ice around his lungs a little, and it feels easier to breathe. Or maybe that's to do with the fact that he hasn't smoked in a few minutes, finally giving his lungs a break. "Thank you. And I love you too."

Nick says a quiet goodbye, and Louis curls up back in bed. He wishes Moose could be here with him, sniffing at his face, or that Ellie was here meowing obnoxiously in his ear. They aren't, though, and despite what he said to Nick, he decides not to call Anne again. Instead, he un-mutes the TV and tries to distract himself. 

Around ten-thirty, about two hours after Anne texted him to report that Harry was finally awake and that she'd be seeing him shortly even though it was passed visiting hours, Louis' eyes are drooping and his body is begging him to sleep. It's odd, because it's only around seven o'clock back home and he's not yet adjusted to California's time. Maybe it's from all the stress of today, or the fact that he finally broke down and cried for an hour straight a little while ago. 

He made the mistake of turning on the news, which is what ultimately pushed him over the edge. It wasn't almost a reflex, though. Every single night, Louis would turn on the news in the hope that Queens' Golden Boy Harry Styles was finally found. And everything single night, he was met with disappointment. 

There were reports rolling in about a major bust in 'one of the worst sex rings in the United States' and 'thirteen victims were reportedly rescued' and 'so far, only four arrests have been made'. Obviously, they don't have any names or faces yet; even if they did, they aren't allowed to share it for the sake of the victims involved, and most likely due to the fact that most are undoubtedly minors. The news anchor was standing outside a motel that's in an even worse condition than the one Louis' staying at, and she reported that the location was one of several that were housing the victims and pimps that were part of the bust, and Louis finally cried. 

It was a too-close look of what Harry faced on an everyday basis. It didn't even seem like that bad of a place, but to know that's where Harry potentially was, doing God only knows what, didn't sit right with Louis.

Even now while he's laying in bed, hours away from that news update, it brings tears to his eyes. How pathetic is that? Just getting a possible  _ glimpse _ at what Harry's gone through is enough to make Louis cry. 

His phone vibrates. He knows it's not Nick, who had to go to another meeting only a little while ago. Those meetings always drag on for hours, and Nick's on thin ice with his boss for texting Louis too much while on the job. So, it's either Anne or Gemma, and that means something new has happened with Harry. Louis' not sure if he wants to find out what, but he fumbles around for his phone anyway. He has to know. 

_ Hi Louis,  _ is how it starts. Louis grows uneasy at the length of the text.  _ I'm not sure if you should come tomorrow afternoon anymore. I think maybe we should give him a few more days to adjust. He's not doing as well as we had hoped. His doctor says he's in shock and that he's not going to be himself for at least a few days. He was relieved to see me and Gems, but he still seems to think he's in danger. He's very anxious. I'm texting you from the bathroom because he's extremely hesitant for one of us to leave him. We're not sure how throwing you into the mix is going to affect him. I'm sorry. _

Louis' heart aches. This is what he was expecting -- for Harry to be unlike himself and panicked. He's watched too many documentaries and crappy movies on this to think it'd be any different. Of course Harry's going to be in shock, of course he's going to be scared. And Louis' heart bleeds sympathy for him, it does, but that doesn't mean he's not going to fight like hell to see him tomorrow.

_ has he asked about me?  _ he types, and then wonders if that's too selfish. Anne's just poured his heart out to him about how bad her son is doing, and he's asking about himself. He clicks send anyway; he's allowed to be a little selfish right now, isn't he? There's no right way to cope, and all that bullshit his mom told him years ago. 

Anne's reply is almost immediate. 

_ Many times. You and Robin are who he asks about the most. He has asked a lot of questions in what little conversation we’ve had, most about you. That doesn't make me any less hesitant about you seeing him though. _

There's no way she actually expects Louis to stay away for long. He's going tomorrow afternoon, no matter what. He feels stupid siting here, waiting around. And if Harry's asked after him, that must mean he wants to see him, right? It has to. Louis doesn't know what he'll do if Harry doesn't want to see him. 

_ is he is any pain? _

He regrets asking immediately. He doesn't want to actually know that, but it feels like the type of thing you ask. 

_ Yes,  _ Anne replies _. He's refusing to let the doctors help reduce any of his withdrawal symptoms. He's on some pain meds, but those aren't helping him much. He's not really talking anymore.  _

Louis furrows his eyebrows.  _ why is he refusing?? _

_ I don't know. The doctors think he doesn't like them going in and out of his room, that he just wants to be left alone. They've tried telling him they'll have to monitor him more closely if he refuses, but he's not listening. Winston thinks Harry doesn't trust what they're putting into his body.  _

_ i'll try to talk him into letting them help tomorrow,  _ Louis types out slowly, knowing it's going to aggravate her. She must decide that it isn't worth the fight and that it might help more than it could hurt, because she sends him a short O _ k.  _

Morning comes, and Louis fully expects to wake up to a text that says Harry's caved. From a night worth of research on heroin withdrawal, he knows how bad the pain is. Muscle spasms, abdominal cramps, vomiting, diarrhea, uncontrollable shaking -- the pain is probably the only thing he can think about. Only then does Louis realize that might be his intent. It'd be easier, wouldn't it, to not be able to focus on anything other than blinding pain when your entire life has changed so dramatically. 

He doesn't wake to see that text from Anne, though. Instead, there's one text from her that simply reads, C _ ome to the hospital as soon as you wake. Hopefully you can convince him to let them help. _

Louis' barely awake by the time he's rattling off the hospital's address to the Uber driver. The driver must sense he's not in the mood to talk because there's no awkward small talk, nothing about the weather or traffic, and no  _ so, do you live around here?  _ He's beyond appreciative.

Louis' twenty-five minutes away from the hospital, which is twenty-five minutes too long. On a whim, he decides to call Nick to see if has any last words of advice. 

Surprisingly enough, Nick answers on the fourth ring.

"What is it?" he asks, concern evident in his voice. Guilt pangs Louis' heart for ever thinking Nick didn't care about Harry. Of course he does. Harry means a lot to Louis, and obviously, that emotion has translated over to Nick. 

"I'm on my way to the hospital," Louis mumbles, a sudden lump of anxiety forming in his throat. He doesn't want his driver to hear all about his life, about Harry's. Before all this, Harry was a very private person. He can't imagine him being okay with Louis talking about his traumas where a stranger is undoubtedly listening. "I don't know what to say to him, Nick."

"Just try and feel him out before saying anything that could overwhelm him," he offers sensibly. That's Nick. Sensible and strong and level-headed and kind of an annoying jackass at times. "I wouldn't go in there and tell him how much you've missed him, unless you get a feeling he needs to hear that. It might make him feel guilty." He pauses. "I don't know. It'd make me feel guilty, anyway."

"No, yeah. I get that."

"Don't ask about any of it, obviously. Maybe just stick to. . . small talk? Ask him how he's feeling, if there's anything you can do for him. Ask him how it was seeing his mom and sister after so long. . . Or maybe don't ask that. Shit, Lou. I have no clue. Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad I'm not the one going in there."

Louis laughs, although it's void of emotion. 

"You knew him for his entire life until he disappeared," Nick says, sounding sad. "You can do this, babe."

"Maybe." 

The word 'disappeared' isn’t exactly the right term to use, because technically, no, Harry hadn't disappeared. They knew exactly what he was mixed in, they just didn't know where he was.

About four months after he went missing, Detective Winston -- who's Ben to them after all of this -- called Anne with some news. Louis was with her at the time, as they were out for some brunch, and they both had thought he was found. Ben quickly told him that no, he wasn't found, but they had a lead they were trying to follow. It was better than nothing.

(Louis had quickly abandoned that whole 'sometimes no news is good news' mentality. If Harry was dead, he'd rather know that for sure than going through life completely uncertain.)

They drove down to the police station when Ben had told them that, about a week ago, Harry was captured on a convenience store's cameras. 

"A week ago?" Louis asked, confused. "And you're just finding out about it now?"

"Different jurisdictions," is what Ben responded with. "It gets muddy when more than one state is involved."

After insistent demands from Anne, Ben showed them the tape. It was of Harry and some older-looking man walking around in the store. At first, they couldn't get a good look at either of them, and Louis couldn't see how they believed it to be Harry when the person looked nothing like him from that shitty of an angle. Whoever it was skinnier than Harry, and they had a buzz cut while Harry's hair had reached a little above his shoulders before he went missing.

And then the man left Harry's side for a few minutes, and Harry started drifting closer towards the surveillance camera. He was doing it on purpose; he wanted to be found. Not that Louis ever believed he'd run away, but by the way Harry's eyes kept flicking towards the camera, and how he was slowly walked closer to it, pretending to be looking at the shelves, told them all he was asking for help. Begging, probably. Thinking  _ God, let someone notice. Help me, help me, help me. Don't let me die like this.  _

Louis couldn't believe it was him until he was just a few feet away from the camera. The new haircut, the smaller frame, the new, tattered clothes -- they all belonged to Harry.

When Harry looked up at the camera and dared to hold his gaze for a few seconds, they could see bruises on his face. There was one on his cheek, and his lip was split, and there could have been a bruise on his chin, too, or it could've been the bad lighting. His eyes were wide and pleading. 

He started to drift away from the camera again, probably to make sure it wasn't obvious as to what he was doing to the person he's with. The man returned shortly after, when Harry was barely on camera anymore. He slung an arm around Harry's waist, making him stumble a bit. They watched them pay for their things, though Harry got nothing, and leave.

The video ended with the door shutting, and Louis wanted to cry and scream and run away all at once. 

"How are you positive that's him?" Anne asked, voice pained. They all knew it was Harry, but she didn't want to put his name to that face unless she had no other choice. 

Ben re-winded a bit and stopped at a frame of Harry reaching up for something. He zooms in until they see what he's getting at. 

"You can see the bottom of his rose tattoo here," he said, pointing at where the ink peeked out from his sleeve. "And the mermaid, and the anchor."

Louis ran a self-conscious hand over his own tattoos. He was there every time Harry got tatted, and never once was he thinking that they could one day be how they identified his body. "What did they buy?"

"Double-mint Wrigley's gum, a case of Lone Star beer, a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, and a baseball cap."

There was nothing suspicious at all, and it made Louis' heart sing with relief. He had expected to hear about rope or chemicals or hunting knives, or something of that nature. But it wasn't. There wasn't anything that screamed danger about what they bought. 

Louis remembers thinking that Harry could be okay. Yeah, he had a couple of bruises, but he didn't seem to be in any immediate danger. But now he's sitting outside the hospital with a list of his injuries swirling around his head, and wondering if there were any track marks on his arms in that video that they didn't notice before. 

The first things Anne tells him when he gets inside is that Harry had caved and taken the medicine about forty minutes ago. Relief floods his veins. 

"That's good," he says, feeling lighter. He's naive enough to take this as a sign of progress, and not one of defeat. "That's really good."

"It is," Anne agrees. She looks exhausted, with bags under her bloodshot eyes. She looks paler than normal, too. And it looks like she's been crying a lot, which Louis isn't surprised by.

"Louis," she starts. "This isn't going to be easy," she tells him, like he doesn't already know that. "He's not acting like himself right now."

Louis nods. Of course he isn't. 

"He's terribly confused and paranoid. He's got it in his head that he's still not safe, and Ben thinks he could be a flight-risk." She says it so gently, so softly, like she's breaking bad news to Louis, but he already knew all this. He wasn't stupid enough to think it'd be any different. 

He nods again, because he's not sure what else to do. Anne reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. He gives her a thin smile, not wanting to worry her any more than she already is about her son. 

"Just be slow with him," Anne continues, still gentle. "Patient, I mean. Don't overwhelm him by talking too fast, or talking about things he's not familiar with."

"I won't," he says, maybe a little too harshly. He's plenty aware that he has to be careful around Harry right now. She doesn't need to be telling him these things. Harry is behind one of these doors, and Louis just wants to see him already. 

She squeezes his shoulder again, making him pay attention to her. "I know. But I think Gemma got a little too excited and forgot. He asked if she ever finished college, and she started going on and on about finishing her degree and getting a job and her own apartment, and he just burst into tears."

Louis swallows thickly as he wipes his sweaty hands on his pants. "Okay. I understand. Can I see him now?"

She nods, lips pursed. He takes a step forward towards the room he assumes Harry's in, but before he can make it very far, Anne stops him. "Louis," she says sternly, and Louis looks at her, startled by the shift of the tone in her voice. "You can't go in there with that on."

At first, he's confused. He's about to ask her what she means, but then he gets it. His engagement ring. He can't go in there with it clinging to his finger when Harry's lost and disoriented and terrified. Last time he saw Louis, they were involved in a very serious relationship, and now Louis' engaged to someone else.

Maybe he doesn't deserve to see Harry after all. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers, miserable. He slides the ring off his finger and shoves it in his pocket. It burns a whole through his jeans. 

"Go see him," she tells him, but she doesn't look at him. She's disappointed in him for moving on, she always has been, and Louis' never thought that was quite fair until now.

Anne guides him lightly to the room, possibly worried that Louis will back out, and then Louis' staring at the door that protects his childhood friend and his first love, and the breath gets knocked out of him all over again. "Go, Louis," she urges, and when Louis doesn't move she turns the door handle for him and pushes it open. 

As soon as his vision steadies and he's not seeing black, he's seeing Harry looking towards the door, bleary eyed and scared. 

"Holy shit," he says, feeling lightheaded. Harry's staring at him, a layer of sweat shining his face. His hair is no longer buzzed, but hanging long passed his shoulders, and when Louis takes a few involuntary steps forward, his eyes lock on the bruises and track marks on Harry's arms, more proof that Harry was in a terrible place. He doesn't realize he's been holding his breath until he can't anymore. 

"Darling," Anne's sweet voice says from behind him, "this is Louis. He's here to see you." When Harry just keeps staring, lips trembling, and Louis keeps standing still, Anne places a hand on Louis' shoulder and squeezes. "Harry, baby, if you aren't ready to see him -- "

"Come here," Harry breathes out, eyes wet and hands wringing the sheets on his bed. His voice sounds the exact same, although more worn and shaky. He hasn't heard that voice is so fucking long, Jesus Christ. It's enough to feel like everything's clicking into place again, and Louis barely even registers he's moving forward until Harry's hands --  _ Harry's hands _ \-- are clawing down his Louis' back as Louis hugs him, trying to get closer than what is humanly possible. He holds him too tight, but Harry holds him back just as tight, head pressed against Louis' shoulder as he cries, small, pitiful sounds coming from him. 

"It's okay," he whispers, even though he promised himself he wouldn't say anything stupid. He presses a hand to the back of Harry's neck to fulfill a selfish desire to really touch him, to feel his skin against his fingertips. 

"I'm sorry," Harry chokes out, his fingers still gnawing at Louis' skin through his shirt. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm -- "

Louis tightens his hold on Harry and clenches his eyes shut. This hurts so, so badly. He feels so fucking sad and pained that all the positive emotions are being washed out. He should be excited, and he is, but _ fuck _ . "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, love," and the pet name just slips out so naturally, he couldn't stop it if he tried. He curses himself, scared of doing something wrong, and his fears feel confirmed when Harry starts crying harder. "I didn't mean to say that," Louis whispers, pulling back, but Harry doesn't let go of him and keeps clinging.

They stay like that for a little while, neither of them saying anything. Eventually, Louis gets the feeling that Harry doesn't want to be touched anymore, so he pulls away. His heart clenches when Harry gives him a tired, apologetic smile, and Louis shakes his head lightly at him before sitting down on the chair next to Harry's bed. Anne, who's been standing there and watching them, takes a seat on the opposite side of his bed. Briefly, Harry looks overwhelmed before gingerly moving to his side -- Louis ignores how he winces in pain -- facing Louis. He doesn't look at him, instead looking at the TV hanging on the wall playing  _ Friends _ , and Anne rubs a soothing hand down his back.

Louis gets the idea that he's not allowed to do that yet, but it's okay. More than okay, because Harry's here and alive and that's all Louis' wanted for years. 

It turns out to be a selfish thing to think, because as the days stretch by, he sees how Harry really is, and it's not all laying back and watching  _ Friends  _ with his mom rubbing his back. Sometimes, he gets angry without an explanation. He lashes out at everyone, including Louis, with frustrated tears building up in his eyes. Last night when Ben had tried to ask him a few questions -- it's been three days and he still won't answer any of them-- Harry had screamed at him so loudly that his face grew red and his voice became hoarse.  _ Get the fuck out, fuck your stupid questions, I don't care, I don't know you, you don't know me, you don't get to judge me _ . Louis had been so shook up by it that he went back to the motel that night for the first time since he got to the hospital, and now because of it, this morning Harry's been barely looking at him or paying him any attention. 

They don't really talk about anything, even when Harry's not upset with him. He's pretty sure that's why Harry likes having him in the room with him; Louis balances things out. When Anne is fussing over Harry while he's being practically forced to ice his ribs, Louis acts as a stabilizer and doesn't say anything or look at Harry with pity, even on the days where Harry is silently crying because he doesn't like the cold and it frustrates him. 

It becomes increasingly obvious that Harry hasn't matured. He's behaving as a short-tempered, impulsive, immature twenty year old who's angry at everyone and everything, and it's -- Louis wouldn't expect anything else. It's not like Harry's had the time to grow and mature and change for the better, so of course Louis' not holding it against him. But it's difficult, because on top of the obvious traumas, it's hard to handle. 

He's got this cold, hard layer of darkness over him. It's like in order to try and protect himself, his skin grew an eighth layer of skin. It makes him scared of everything and suspicious of everyone and angry,  _ so angry, _ all the time. It makes him think he's constantly being lied to. Just yesterday when Anne told him that they'd arrested a few people, he had shouted at her that she was lying, and that lying to him wasn't going to help anything. 

Whenever Louis tells Nick any of this, whenever he gets the chance to, Nick is less than helpful. He's busy and on another continent and trying to make Louis feel better rather than giving him advice that might hurt, which is lovely when Louis needs that, but sometimes he just needs to be told what to do, how to be or what to say.

"Louis?"

Harry's quiet voice makes him jump. Louis thought he was sleeping. He clicks his phone off and tucks it away in his pocket before looking at Harry. He's still hard to look at, all bruised flesh, gaunt cheeks, and tired eyes, but Louis smiles softly at him, his heart squeezing in his chest. It takes him a minute to realize he's making that  _ oh, baby, it's alright _ face Anne always make at Harry, and he quickly stops himself.

Harry licks his lips and fists the sheets. "How old is Gemma again?"

"Uh, twenty-nine, I'm pretty sure."

Harry nods a few times more than normal, and Louis narrows his eyes, trying to work out what Harry's really asking. When Harry gives him this desperate, heart-wrenching look, Louis finally understands. "You're twenty-six, Harry."

Harry nods, again too fast, and Louis wants so badly to hold his hand or pet his hair, but he's not allowed to touch yet, he knows that. He might never be allowed to touch him again. "Okay," Harry whispers, his fingers fiddling with the sheet he’s gripping almost frantically.

"Okay?"

Harry's still nodding. "I just -- forgot. 'M sorry, I just. . . forgot."

"You're fine," Louis promises. "You can ask anything you'd like."

Harry shakes his head then, eyes darting away from Louis and to the TV. Reruns of  _ The X-Factor _ are playing. Louis caught on yesterday that Anne never turns anything on that Harry hasn't already watched, which means no new episodes of anything from the last six years. 

"I don't wanna know anything," Harry murmurs, voice wavering. "I don't want anything else to change."

Louis doesn't say anything, just sits their stupidly until Harry shakily asks him to get his doctor because his stomach hurts really bad, and then Louis' the one nodding like an idiot. It's just a symptom from the withdrawal, Louis knows that, but it still worries him endlessly. 

That night, Harry gets explosively frustrated again, and it's pretty much all Louis' fault. 

He doesn't mean to push Harry, but Ben seriously needs some questions answered for the sake of the case and for other people like Harry, and Harry's not being helpful at all. Ben's tried to tell him that he won't have to go into too many details, and that he'll take it as slow as Harry wants, and yet Harry's still refusing. Louis doesn't mean to be unsympathetic, but he doesn't understand why Harry won't say  _ anything _ .

"He just has a few questions, H. About the people they arrested, and -- "

"I know," Harry interrupts, glaring at Louis. He's sitting up in bed for once, but he's tucked himself away towards the other side of the bed, as far from Louis as he can get. He does that a lot, distances himself. The only person he lets touch him or be close to him is Anne, who ran back to her motel really quickly to change and shower fifteen minutes ago. She should be back in five minutes or so. "I know what he wants, but I don't want to talk about it."

Louis suppresses a sigh. "Ben said -- "

"What, you're on a first name basis with him now?" Harry snaps, his fragile patience already wearing thin. "He's the detective on my case, not your fucking friend."

"Harry -- "

Harry shakes his head and clenches his jaw tightly before looking back at the TV. He's breathing a bit heavily, and Louis does sigh then. 

"I didn't mean to upset you."

Harry doesn't look at him. "Yeah, well. You did."

"Haz," Louis says, growing impatient himself. "He says he'll try and stick to 'yes' or 'no' questions. Isn't that easier?"

"I don't care what he says, Louis."

"What if your mom or I stayed with you? Would that -- "

And Harry gives him a look, one of betrayal, and Louis shuts up. He's staring at Louis incredulously, and Louis can practically see his blood boiling. "Do you think it matters if you're there or not? Do you really think that'd make it any easier?"

Louis doesn't say anything, unsure of what to do. He’s clearly pushed Harry too far. 

"I was -- " he shakes his head, refusing (unable?) to say it, "and you think anything could make talking about it any easier? Nothing can, Louis, and you're fucking stupid if you actually think that. You think I'd want you there, hearing about everything? Everything I had to do?" His eyes narrow. "You don't get to judge me, either. I don't care what you think you mean to me. Nobody gets to judge me."

Louis scrambles for an answer. "Nobody wants to -- I mean, nobody's judging you, for anything. Nobody thinks you had a choice in any of it, we don't -- "

"You don't know anything, so stop. Just stop." His chest leaps like he's having trouble breathing, which seems to make him more frantic. He inhales sharply. "Get out," he stammers, looking away.

"H -- "

"Go, I don't want you here anymore. Get out." When Louis stares at him wordlessly, Harry lets out a scared whimper. "Get  _ out _ , get out, I said  _ get out _ , so _ leave  _ \-- "

And he looks so, so scared, so frantic, that Louis nods quickly. He hates the way that Harry's looking at him like he's just another person who doesn't listen to what he says and takes whatever they want.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." 

He leaves, unsure of what else to do, and sits in the waiting room just outside Harry's room. He chews on his nails nervously until Anne gets back. She's freshly showered and looks less ghostly, but when she sees him, she looks alarmed. 

"Why aren't you with him?" she asks, confused. 

Louis wipes his hands on his pants anxiously. "I made him upset," he explains. "He didn't want me in there with him anymore." Her eyes widen slightly before she quickly walks over to his room and opens the door, and immediately, Louis can hear Harry crying. Loud, sharp sobs explode from his room, and Louis feels his gut twist in anguish. Anne quickly shuts the door behind her, but Louis stands and follows her inside anyway. 

Harry's curled up on the bed, arms over his head like he's shielding himself from danger. He's rocking back and forth slightly, or it could be from the weight of his sobs, and Anne’s shushing him quietly as she approaches him. She sets a tentative hand on Harry's shoulder, and Louis expects him to push her away, but he lets her wrap an arm around his shoulders. He doesn't lean into her or let her calm him down, but he doesn't flinch too terribly either. 

"I'm sorry, Mom," Harry stutters out. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh, baby," Anne whispers kindly while glaring daggers at Louis. He can't say he doesn't deserve it. What was he thinking, leaving Harry alone like that? "You don't need to apologize for anything. Not anymore."

Harry went missing at a shopping mall. 

He was out with Niall and Zayn, who all were on a break from college, and Louis had been invited to come along, but he declined because he was still too hungover from the night before. Unlike the rest of their friend group who had about two years left to go, Louis already graduated college, so he spent most of his time going out at nights and spending all day sleeping. He didn't have the energy to pull himself out of bed that day, so maybe it was his fault that Harry ended up wandering out of the store Niall and Zayn were in to call his mom and ask her if she wanted anything while he was out. The service sucked inside the store, so he went outside really quick, and Louis would've came with him to have a cigarette, he knows he would've. But he wasn't there, and then suddenly neither was Harry. 

Niall called him, freaking out, saying that they had no idea where he was but his cell phone was still outside along with his shopping bags. And Louis' never been able to get over the fact that he very easily could've prevented something from happening if he had just been there for Harry. God only knows what he's had to go through. 

Looking at Harry now, the guilt bubbles back up in stomach, demanding to be felt. He's been able to ease it throughout the years, but seeing him sleep with a grimace on his face because his ribs hurt and the cravings still haven't let up makes it impossible to even try and let himself believe he didn't do anything wrong. 

Last night after Harry had calmed down, he went to sleep, and he's been out ever since. Anne ripped Louis a new one in fierce whispers (" _ How dare you leave him alone, I trust you, you know better than this." _ ) and ever since, she's been intently staring at the TV, her hand firm on Harry's forearm and her bottom lip tucked between her gnawing teeth. Louis, ashamedly, texts Nick about how work is going and their pets and once about what music will play at their wedding, because Nick heard a song he loved, and he knew Louis would hate it. Louis had entertained the conversation for a few messages before sending,  _ baby, i'm more than excited to get married to you, but can we not talk about that right now? sorry _ . Nick understood. He's always been so understanding.

When Harry eventually wakes, he's teary-eyed and sniffling, but he won't let anyone comfort him. He just holds himself like he's falling apart (he probably is, is the thing, both physically and mentally) and makes these sad little shuddering noises every one in awhile. It was probably a nightmare of some sort, a distorted memory of pain dragging its nails down Harry's back, reminding him cruelly by making him relive it, even though he could never forget.

Louis wonders how much of it he actually remembers. How drugged was he all the time? Is that the type of thing you block out, or does it hurt too strongly to be able to do that? He doesn't know. But he knows Harry remembers enough. Too much. It's obvious in the way he shakes, and Louis' confident that that isn't from the withdrawal. 

Anne leaves to go down to the cafeteria and buy Harry these fruit gummies he likes from the vending machine, because he sometimes refuses to eat a proper meal and she probably doesn't want to fight with him right now. Before she goes, she tells Harry softly she'll be right back, and yet, only a minute after she's gone, he starts to cry. 

"Harry -- " Louis starts, but Harry tells him to stop in a wounded voice. He swallows thickly. "She'll be right back."

"I  _ know _ that," Harry snaps, though it falls flat towards the end. He's facing away from Louis, and Louis' thankful because he's not sure he could take seeing the agony on his face, not after Louis had upset him so badly yesterday. "I know that," he repeats, voice trembling. "She just went downstairs."

Louis blinks, unsure of what to say. It's obvious Harry's trying to convince himself not to be scared, that he's just being paranoid, but it's not working. "Right. She's just in the cafeteria."

"And Gemma's just down the road at a motel."

"Right, yes. She'll be back tonight. She was just tired."

"I know that," Harry snaps again, and Louis sighs quietly, defeated. He doesn't know how to not upset him. It's seems impossible not to now. Harry used to be so calm and easy-going, and now everything makes him react so defensively. For good reasons, of course, it's just. Different. Hard to adjust to. 

Harry inhales shakily. Louis can hear him wince; apparently, the only thing the doctors are going to do for his broken ribs is ice them. It's fucking stupid. "I didn't like you leaving me yesterday."

Louis immediately feels miserable. "I know, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I don't like being alone." He sounds so, so vulnerable. 

"You aren't. It's okay. She'll be back. Your mom will never leave you, H."

As if to prove his point, Anne walks through the door moments after. She jolts at the way Harry's crying and glances at Louis, accusatory. Louis doesn't even try to defend himself, not after what he did yesterday. Harry lets out a small cry and reaches for her with the hand that's in a cast, and he flinches backwards when she rests a hand on his shoulder. She retracts her hand and instead he grabs her wrist, and Louis can tell it's hard for her to do nothing more but be held but she doesn't do anything about it. 

"It's alright, baby. I'm back, it's okay."

Louis' phone lights up in his hand. It's from Nick.  _ India is cool and all but I miss your stupid face  _ is what is says, and he finds it in him to muster a weak smile. He types out a quick,  _ your face is stupider x  _ before glancing up. Anne's glaring at him when he does. 

Two days later, Harry is still refusing to answer any of Ben's questions and he has to get surgery on his wrist. 

He absolutely freaks out when the doctor comes in that morning to talk him through the procedure. He cries and cries and cries, and he clings to Gemma as tightly as he possibly can, begging her not to let them do it. She tries to explain to him that they need to, that Harry's fracture has been left untreated for far too long and it's a necessity that fix it as soon as possible, but he doesn't listen. He shouts at the doctor to leave, and Anne follows his plea by a softer promise of speaking to him later, and Louis stands there stupidly, watching the whole thing play out. Harry has his face shoved into Gemma's neck, his arms tight around her, and it's the closest he's allowed himself to be to someone since Louis' been here, and they're all wary about doing anything that could jeopardize that. 

"Baby," Anne starts gently, and Harry shakes his head. Gemma's hand on his waist squeezes. "Dear, it's what's best for you."

"I just wanna go home," Harry sobs out, the cries so explosive that Louis  _ knows _ it's sending excruciating shocks of pain from his ribs. "I've been here for so long, I've done all their stupid tests and let them put their things in me, but I'm  _ tired _ . I want to go  _ home _ . Why does nobody understand that?"

"We understand that, sweetie, we do," Anne whispers, looking guilty. 

“Then let me  _ go _ . Tell them I’m done here. There’s doctors in Queens that can take care of me if I need it. I just want to go home. I haven’t been home in  _ so long _ .”

Anne wipes at her glossy eyes with the back of her hand. “I know, I’m sorry. Just try and relax for me, alright?”

But Harry is inconsolable, and they convince the doctor to push back his surgery another day. It takes a lot of pleading on their end, but it works out and Harry's just relieved he doesn't have to worry about it today. He stays attached to Gemma for about twenty minutes until he gets up and hobbles to the bathroom, cringing with pain the entire way.

The following day, they somehow convince Harry to allow the surgery to happen. At first, it's by promising that he can be awake for the whole thing, but when that doesn't go over well with him, it's by saying he can sleep through it all. The surgeons do whatever they need to do -- Louis' still not clear on what exactly the problem is -- and everything's fine when he wakes up. He's a bit stressed at first, overwhelmed and anxious, but they calm him down, which is getting easier to do. 

Louis starts to notice real progress in him, which makes him incredibly proud and selfishly relieved. On day ten, Harry laughed quietly for the first time, and Louis nearly cried and Anne actually did. Harry looked uncomfortable, and Anne was beyond apologetic for ruining the moment, but it still happened and they were all so grateful for it. He gets better about asking for things, or making it clear when certain behaviors bother him. It's still a bit shaky and sometimes they have to read between the lines to understand what Harry wants, but he stops lashing out in frustration as much because they don't get it. His doctor says that his mood is shifting because the cravings are getting less intense, which is also a really great thing. He's still quiet and sad the majority of the time, but Louis feels less like a piece of shit when he goes to the motel for a night to sleep or shower now. He's confident now that Harry won't hate him for it, or feel neglected. 

So, naturally, things fall apart quickly after Louis' hope starts to rebuild. 

He accidentally leaves his phone at the hospital when he goes back to the motel for a quick shower on day twelve of Harry being back. He doesn't even notice it until he needs to call a cab back. The phone-obsessed part of him gets anxious about it, but logically, he knows it's no big deal. He knows exactly where it is -- on Harry's bedside table -- and he can just use the motel's phone to call a cab. It's nothing to stress about, especially when the only person who's been texting him is Nick. His boss has given him indefinite leave and his mom has given him the space he asked for, so nobody other than Nick is going to text or call, and Louis had texted Nick he was about to go for a shower anyway. 

Except, Nick was bored at his meeting, apparently, and texted Louis three times while he was away from his phone. And Louis hadn't taken the phone off vibrate, and it was annoying Harry so he went to silence it.  _ babyyyy i'm boredddd hurry upppp  _ is what Harry saw when he looked at Louis' phone, because Louis (stupidly, so stupidly) didn't take the setting off his phone that allows your messages to appear on your lockscreen. According to Anne, Harry looked  _ destroyed _ . And Louis knows it's really, really bad when he comes back to find Anne and Gemma both sitting out in the waiting room, meaning Harry's been left alone. 

After Anne explains everything to him, from the way Harry cried to the way he kept saying he was such an idiot, Louis feels so much guilt he could almost puke from it. 

"I'm so, so sorry," he whispers, feeling lightheaded. His naked ring finger tingles. "I forgot it, I -- "

"Not your fault," Anne tells him kindly, smiling weakly. She's acting empathetic, but Louis knows, deep down, she's thinking _ I told you so _ . She knew this was going to blow up in his face from the moment he let Nick take him out on a date. "Just give him a few minutes until you talk to him, yeah?"

She hands him his phone, his stupid, traitorous phone, and he takes it and tucks in his pocket without reading the texts from Nick. Nick doesn't matter right now, and Louis doesn't care if that makes him a bad fiancé or whatever the fuck. He hurt Harry, he fucking shattered his heart. The only thing Louis could protect him from was finding out about Nick, and he fucked that up. He's so fucking  _ stupid _ . 

Anne goes in a few minutes later to lessen the blow Louis is undoubtedly going to face, and she comes back to get him with a grim expression. Louis just nods and follows her back in, and the look of betrayal he gets from Harry when he sees him is enough to make Louis feel breathless. 

"You're married?" Harry asks, voice barely above a whisper as Louis sits down next to his bed. He has his knees pulled up his chest, his hands fidgeting on top of them. He won't look at Louis. Louis can't look away from his wounded look. Anne quietly leaves the room, and then it's just his stupid self and Harry. 

"No," Louis denies immediately. "I'm --  _ no _ . I'm not married."

Harry looks like he's agony. His bottom lip quivers and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them again, they're watery. "But you're going to be. Mom said you're engaged to -- to Nick."

Louis hates the way Nick's name sounds on Harry's tongue. It shouldn't be there, Louis should've been more careful about this,  _ fuck _ . 

"Who is he, Louis?"

It's too much. He's so fucking overwhelmed; his heart is pounding in his chest and he keeps making these huffy little noises that might be attempted words, he can't even tell. He can't bring himself to talk, can't figure out what the right things to say. There's no way to fix this, and still, he's desperately trying to find the words to do so. 

A tear falls from Harry's eyes and he quickly brushes it away with a trembling hand. "Do I know him?" he asks, still quiet. "I don't remember a Nick, but I -- I don't remember a lot of things."

Louis makes a pitiful noise. "No. No. You don't. I met him after."

"Oh."

His hands are going numb.. Breathing is becoming difficult. He's just made Harry's pain so, so much worse. "Harry, I -- shit. I'm so sorry."

Harry wipes at his eyes again. "Does he know about me?"

"Yes," Louis says immediately. "He knows everything about you. He knows I'm here right now. He's really fucking happy you're okay."

Harry nods slowly, settling his hands back on his knees. He looks exhausted. "Does he know you were my boyfriend?"

"God, Harry." Louis' close to tears, but he doesn't get to cry. He's the asshole here, he doesn't get to fucking cry. "I'm -- yes. Yes. That's not something I'd ever hide. From anyone."

Harry's nodding again, long and slow, and then he's crying. Streams of tears come from his glossy eyes, and he wipes at them hastily but it does no good. There's no stopping them now. Louis reaches out to comfort him, and Harry jolts away from him so he lays his hand lamely on the edge of Harry's bed.

"I'm just being stupid," Harry whimpers out. "I'm fine."

"You're not. You don't have to be." He shakes his head at himself and swears quietly. "I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so, so -- "

"Don't be," Harry snaps. Louis pulls back, confused and taken aback. He watches as Harry wipes at his eyes more sternly this time. He finally looks at Louis. Louis wants to look away, too ashamed to hold eye contact, but the anger in Harry's eyes make it impossible to. "It's stupid, right? It's not like you were going to wait around forever."

"That's not it," Louis rushes out, because that's --  _ no. _ "That's not it all, Harry, God. I would've waited for you forever, I just -- it just happened, okay? I'm so sorry. I didn't plan it. I didn't want to find anyone else, I just wanted you, but Nick just -- he just -- I don't know."

Harry chokes out a hysterical laugh and shakes his head. "You were one of the only things I was holding on for. When I was -- when I was being hurt and violated, I would just think about you, about how you were waiting for me somewhere, worrying about me, wanting me to be okay and hold on, but you just. You weren't, were you?"

"Yes, yes, I was. I was, Harry, I -- I don't even believe in God, but I prayed for you every single fucking night, all I -- you being safe was the only thing I cared about."

Harry looks furious and shattered all at once. "You're  _ engaged _ ."

Louis feels frantic. "Yes, I know that, but -- "

"You got rid of our apartment," Harry spits, and his voice cracks showing just how hurt he is. He clenches his fists against his knees. "Mom said she tried to keep it for me, but it was just too expensive, and -- " he stops himself and looks away, shaking his head. "When I said I wanted to go home the other day," he says, voice shaking on every word, "I meant to our apartment. I meant I wanted to be home, in our bed, safe. And your home is some guy's house I don't even know."

"I'm sorry," Louis cries, heart clenching. "I thought about you all the time, Harry, you have to believe that. I loved you so fucking much; losing you is the worst thing that's ever happened to me. Nick doesn't change that. Me being engaged doesn't take away how much I loved you."

"That's a fucking stupid thing to say."

"It's  _ not _ . It's  _ true _ ."

"Why are you here?" Harry snaps, but the look he gives Louis is filled with suffering. He's lashing out the way a feral animal would if injured. "Why did you come? You should be with him."

"I'm here because you're my best friend and you're finally safe, and all I want is for you to get better."

Harry bites his lip, glancing away from him again. "Yeah, well. I want you to go."

Louis' stomach flips with panic. That's impossible. He must be fucking losing it, because Harry did not just say that to him. It leaves Louis stunned. "I'm not leaving. I can't leave, I can't just -- "

"I don't want you here anymore, Louis."

He can't stop the tears now. They flood his eyes and he can't blink them away, can't convince himself to stop making this about him. He reaches out to grab Harry's arm and Harry shakes him off, and Louis lets out a small sob. "Please, Harry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I hurt you, okay? I know you're upset but please don't push me out. Please. I can't leave, not with knowing you hate me."

"I don't  _ hate _ you," Harry spits incredulously, looking at Louis again. "I  _ love _ you, the same way I've loved you my entire life. But you love someone else now, and I don't want you babying me out of pity. I don't need that."

"Harry," Louis tries weakly. "Please."

"Go back to New York, Louis," Harry says flatly, shaking his head. 

"Please, _ please _ don't do this."

Harry doesn't say anything else, and Louis' fully willing to sit here and wait out Harry's silent treatment, but Anne comes in to check in on them and Harry tells her immediately he wants Louis to go. Anne doesn't fight for Louis' place, and he's not sure why he expected her to. Harry is her son, and he's been hurt far too badly to deserve to be around anyone he doesn't want to be ever again. So when she asks Louis politely to leave, Louis turns to Harry and asks, "Is that what you really want?" Harry nods shortly, and that's that. He goes because he refuses to be another person that ignores what Harry wants. 

He plans on waiting Harry's anger out at the motel, but Anne texts him daily saying Harry's still insisting he doesn't want to see Louis again. Louis stays in California anyway, because he's too far into this to be ashamed of being desperate. He doesn't go to the hospital -- he's not stupid -- but he stays in the shitty motel by himself, watching garbage TV and eating too much food from vending machines.

Four days after Harry kicked him out, Anne texts Louis and tells him that Harry's finally talked to Ben.  _ He was very helpful,  _ Anne informs him. _ Ben said Harry promised to try and be open to any of his questions from now on.  _

Three days later, Louis finds out that Harry's going to fly back to New York, and he very nearly crosses the line he created by storming over to the hospital and telling them all how stupid that is. It's only been almost three weeks since he's back -- is he seriously okay enough to fly? It can't be. His ribs are still broken, he's still doing breathing treatments. But Anne tells him that they have it handled, that his doctors have cleared it, and that it'll all be fine. 

So, Louis flies back home the day before Harry's supposed to, and he's miserable. 

Being around Moose and Ellie again is nice, but what he really needs is Nick. Nick, who's going to be in India for the next two weeks while Louis mopes around the house sadly. Anne's text updates aren't enough, and he needs Nick to prevent him from going crazy. Harry is here in New York, no more than a twenty minute drive, and Louis' not with him every second of every day. It fucking hurts. Nick could make it hurt less.

Still, Harry doesn't want to see him. After a month, it gets to the point that even Gemma is trying to will away his stubbornness for Louis' sake, but it's not enough. Harry is fragile and scared and won't leave the house, so Anne won't let her pester him too much, and in the end, Louis' still being pushed out. It's unfair and it's fucking stupid, and no matter how many times Nick kisses him and tells him that Harry will come around, the guilt never thaws. He goes back to work because he has to, but it doesn't help much because he's a family social worker, which isn't a very happy job most of the time. He just wants to take his mind off things. Off Harry. He misses him so much, misses just sitting next to him and being able to see that he's okay, especially as Anne's updates get more and more scary. 

Harry doesn't eat anything some days. The majority of days, he doesn't get out of bed. He refuses to see a therapist, refuses to go to half of his doctor appointments, refuses to shower until he's literally filthy. He lets Niall, Zayn and Liam sit with him in his room and watch TV, which Louis is so grossly jealous of, but he won't see anyone else. Ben tries to coax him down to the police station a few times, but Harry won't do anything than answer a few questions in the safety of his own bed. 

Once, about two months into everything at three o'clock in the morning, he got a frantic call from Anne saying that Harry's gone, that he's not in his bed, and Louis all but has a heart attack. They all think whoever captured Harry got him again somehow, even though nobody says it out loud, and Louis' driving around aimlessly with Nick in the passenger seat in the dark when he gets a text that says,  _ He was going to your old apartment, he's safe. Go back to sleep. He says he's sorry for scaring everyone _ . Louis' heart nearly gives again, and he's pretty sure he scares Nick half to death by how hard he cries that night in bed. The guilt, the disappointment, the growing feeling of betrayal -- they all demand to be felt at once, and Nick holds him tight and shushes him until they both fall asleep. 

Louis learns to live without Harry again, which is probably the hardest thing he's ever had to do, after losing him. He no longer has to deal with the constant fear that Harry's dead like he used to, but now he has to choke down the truth that Harry's alive and just doesn't want to see him. Nick stays supportive through it all, which makes Louis feel  _ worse _ , somehow. Nick should hate him for being so torn up over someone else, someone he used to be in love with. But he doesn't, and for that, Nick's too good of a person for Louis. 

Two and a half months after Harry's return, Nick and Louis are curled up on the sofa watching  _ Golden Girls _ while eating dinner. Moose is begging like normal at their feet, because tonight's pizza night and he always gets Nick's crust on pizza nights.

They're uncharacteristically quiet tonight, mostly due to the fact that Nick told Louis an hour ago that he's off to Australia for a month in a week. They got into it a bit in regards to why the _ fuck _ Nick waited so long to tell him, but when Nick calmly told him that it was because he was trying to make sure Louis could handle him being away for so long right now, Louis couldn't be mad anymore. But, still. Anger or no anger, it fucking sucks that Nick's leaving again. It always does. It never hurts any less. 

There's a quiet knock on the door fifteen minutes into their second episode. Moose starts barking and runs to the door, which causes Nick to groan and call him a dramatic queen. Louis stands to answer the door, and Nick shakes his head. 

"I can get it," Nick says softly, standing and motioning for Louis to sit back down. 

"It's fine, love." He kisses Nick's shoulder before walking towards the door. "Lottie's been meaning to drop off a shirt she borrowed, so it's probably just her." He lightly pushes Moose back from the door and tells him to shush before opening the door. He's immediately met with the noise of unrelenting rain, and the sight of a shivering, soaking wet Harry. 

"Harry, what the fuck," he says, shocked. Without really thinking, he grabs Harry's arm and tugs him inside. His skin -- because he's not wearing a coat, just a pair of gray sweats and a t-shirt -- is freezing to the touch. So many things are going through Louis' head right now that he doesn't know what to do or say next. Harry's just standing there shuddering, hands wrapped around him as he gets water everywhere. Moose barks excitedly at the sight of a new guest, earning a flinch from Harry, but fortunately doesn't jump up on him. 

Louis tries to think straight. Harry is here, at his house, at seven o'clock at night. He must've walked here in the pouring rain, if his dripping-wet hair and clothes are anything to go by. He's staring at Louis, teeth chattering, like he doesn't know what to do or say, either. Like he doesn't even know why he's here or how he got here.

Louis takes a deep breath. 

"Does your mom know you're here, Harry?"

Harry blinks at him slowly, almost like he's realizing Louis' standing in front of him, before shaking his head.

"You can't do that to her," Louis says, sighing. He runs a hand over his hair before nodding to himself. He can do this. He can be responsible. All he's wanted for months is to be there for Harry, and now is his chance. (Is that selfish to think? He’s not sure.) "You're freezing, H. Let me get you some warmer clothes, okay? Just wait here, I'll be right back." He turns to move, but Harry grabs his arm to stop him. 

"I don't want new clothes," Harry tells him, voice weak.

"Harry. You're going to get hypothermia standing there in those clothes."

"I don't want new clothes," Harry repeats, this time with tears in his eyes. He looks exhausted

Louis opens his mouth to say something, anything, and before he can, Nick comes wandering in to see who's here. He stops at the doorway, obviously confused, and Louis tries to discreetly tell him to go, but it's too late. Harry sees Nick, and turns to look at him. His nails dig into Louis' arm and he shuffles closer to Louis so subtly he almost misses it. 

"It's okay, I promise," Louis says, doing his best to sound soothing. It’s hard to do when he’s not even sure that Harry can be soothed by him anymore. "That's just Nick, he's not going to hurt you."

Harry's nails let go over Louis' skin, but his fingers stay there, running over the soft indents he just created. He tears away his eyes from Nick to look back at Louis and his lip wobbles slightly. 

"You're okay," Louis whispers, doing his best to smile. He doesn't know what's going on, or why Harry's here, and he knows he has to call Anne, but right now he just needs to focus on getting Harry warm. He's still underweight, judging by his hollow cheeks and too-big clothes, and his immune system is probably shit. Louis doesn’t want him getting sick.

"I have some of your old clothes still," he tells Harry. "They're just up in my room, okay? Will you please change into them for me?"

Harry looks so, so lost, and he doesn't object, so Louis takes that as a yes. He ignores the sinking feeling that Harry's not acting right, that he's acting too dazed right now, and tells Harry to stay put and shoots Nick a look before rushing upstairs to dig through his and Nick's drawers to find Harry's things. He has a few t-shirts of his, one of which he quickly finds, and he has the one pair of joggers of Harry's that weren't ridiculously long on him when he was going through Harry's things, so he grabs those and a pair of his own boxers before going back downstairs as quickly as possible. 

Harry's still standing there, holding himself and looking straight forward, eyes glazed over, when Louis returns. Nick looks afraid, almost. Louis just smiles weakly at him before going over to Harry and handing him the clothes. Harry bunches them up with shaking hands and nods, and Louis quietly guides him to the bathroom. He's scared to close the door and leave Harry alone, but he can't just sit there and watch him, can he, so he does it and goes back to the kitchen. 

"I didn't know that Rolling Stones shirt was his," Nick says, sounding bewildered. It's almost like he's too stunned to realize that he probably shouldn't be focusing on that right now. Louis just shakes his head at him and walks back to the living room to grab his phone. He dials Anne's phone number and hits enter before coming back over to Nick and grabbing his hand. He squeezes it softly, trying to send an apology through to him that way. 

Because this is a shitty situation, isn't it? One that Nick doesn't need to be involved in and only is because of Louis. And it's not like Harry coming here is such a bad thing, except -- well, it is, actually. This Harry isn't spontaneous and he's scared and he doesn't just walk thirty, maybe forty minutes to get to Louis' house in the middle of the evening. It's been a little while since he saw Harry last, but that doesn't mean he isn't aware of how Harry can't leave the house still, so why and how could he come here? It doesn't make any sense.

"Should I go upstairs?" Nick asks, voice low. "I don't want to, like. Scare him off, or something."

Louis shakes his head. "You probably should, but I need you here right now, so -- "

Before he can continue, Anne answers her phone. He sighs as she says hello and watches Nick head to the fridge to grab some water for Harry. Louis smiles appreciatively at him. "Hey, Anne."

"What is it? I don't want to be rude, dear, but I've got to get Harry in the shower soon."

"Um." Louis scratches at his head. This is awkward. "About that, Anne. He's -- um. Harry's. . . Well, Harry's here."

There's a silence, and then, "I don't understand."

"He just showed up, Anne. He's here. At my house. He walked here, I think, so I'm having him get changed now so he doesn't freeze to death. But, um. Yeah, he's here."

There's the muffled noise of shuffling and then a creaky door opening, and then Anne gasps. "Jesus Christ, you're right. He's not here. How did he -- I -- he was  _ just _ down for dinner, how did I not hear him leave?"

"I don't know. He seems really upset though. I don't know what to do."

"Just keep an eye on him, yeah? I'll be over as soon as I can." She mutters something under her breath and sighs. "He was having a decent day today too, I don't. . . I don't know how to help him, Louis. He's not getting any better."

Louis starts to senselessly apologize, but before he can get the words out, the bathroom door opens and Louis quickly spits out a quick, _ I gotta go _ , _ he doesn't know I called you _ before hanging up and shoving his phone in his back pocket. There's this weird part of him that feels like he's betraying Harry's trust by going to Anne, even though he knows he's not. It's what's best for Harry.

Harry looks like he’s somewhere else as he slowly walks towards Louis, the sopping wet clothes crumpled in his hands. He's still shaking, just not as bad. Louis walks forwards and grabs the clothes from Harry, smiling gently, before putting them on the kitchen counter. 

"Do you feel okay?" 

Harry nods sluggishly, and allows Louis to guide him carefully to the living room. After Louis sits him down on the sofa, he grabs the soft, fluffy blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around him. Louis sits next to him, making sure to stay a few feet away. 

"How do you know where I live, Harry?"

Harry shrugs and glances at him. He sniffles. "Niall told me."

"Right, okay." He gives him another fake smile. "Niall, then. Do you like talking to him?" He's talking to Harry like he's trying to convince a stray cat to come inside, but he has a feeling anything else will scare him off. Harry's not acting right, he's -- Louis doesn't know. There's just something off about him. 

Harry nods before looking at the TV. Louis asks if he feels alright again, but Harry doesn't answer. Instead, he stays focused on the TV. Louis glances at the clock on the wall and wills Anne to come faster. He doesn't know what to do.

They stay in silence for about five minutes before a commercial break comes on. Harry glances at Louis again, still looking out of it. He rubs at his nose with the blanket and sniffles a little. 

"What's wrong, H?"

Harry's face scrunches up in sorrow and he lets out a small whimper. Louis instinctively reaches out for him but stops himself halfway. He keeps forgetting. Harry lets out a hiccup and shakes his head. "I -- God, I'm so stupid. I'm so stupid," he cries, pulling his knees to his chest. He looks so fragile like this, crying and huddling in on himself in a big blanket. 

"You're not, Harry. You aren't. You're not stupid."

The floorboards creak and -- right. Nick's here. Nick stands there, looking sheepish, with a water bottle in his hand. He sets it on the coffee table in front of Louis and Harry before quickly walking back at. Briefly, Louis feels guilty for doing this to Nick, for bringing this into his life, but then Harry starts wiping at his tears and Louis forgets about that for now. 

"I just wanna lay down," Harry tells him. Before Louis can say anything, Harry is moving to lay on the couch. He pulls the blanket around him tighter, sniffling loudly. He doesn't look at Louis, even when Louis asks what's wrong. "Nothing's wrong," Harry says flatly. "I just want to sleep."

Louis wants so desperately to wrap his hand around Harry's ankle, but he can't touch. He knows that, and he doesn't understand why knowing that isn't enough to make him stop wanting to. "Why couldn't you lay down at home?"

Harry's quiet for a minute or so before he inhales shakily. "My mom is so stressed out 'cause of me, Lou. Her and Robin don't know what to do anymore."

Louis frowns, eyebrows furrowing. "They love you, H. They're trying their best."

Harry rubs at his nose with the blanket again and shakes his head. "I know that, I do. But Robin, just. . . he's scared to overstep. And my mom, she's constantly worrying about me, and I, like." He shifts so he's looking at Louis, his cheek pressed against the couch. His eyes are wet again. "I'm trying, you know? For her. But it's just. . . Everything's so hard. I don't get this."

"Get what?"

Harry shrugs stiffly. "Any of it. How I did it before." His eyes dart away from Louis. "I never got a choice in anything there. So, like. I don't  _ know _ . I don't know what I want for breakfast, and I don't know what I want to watch, and I don’t know if I want Niall to come over, and -- and sometimes I forget to shower and eat. I just -- it's so  _ hard. _ I don't like it." Harry shakes his head. "I just wanna sleep, Lou. I just want to sleep."

"Okay," Louis whispers, because he doesn't have a response to anything else Harry just said. "Go to sleep, H." He leans over to make sure Harry's feet are covered before patting his shoulder lamely and leaving the living room.

Nick's standing in the kitchen still, staring intently at his phone. As soon as he sees Louis, he beckons him closer with a hurried hand. Louis, confused, comes over and goes to look at Nick's phone, but Nick clicks the screen off before Louis can see it. Nick looks a bit embarrassed.

"What is it?" Louis asks, still confused. 

Nick bites his lip and his eyes flick to the living room before he sighs quietly. He won't look Louis in the eye. "I know I don't know him, and I know I should really just fuck off in this whole situation, but like. Do you -- do you think he's high? On, like. Heroin."

It feels like Louis' been slapped in the face, and immediately, he's scowling at Nick angrily. "That's a fucked thing to assume, Nick."

"I know, okay? I know. But. . . He  _ is  _ a heroin addict. And I was looking up some things, and it said drowsiness and slow movements are symptoms of -- "

"Oh, just stop," Louis hisses, narrowing his eyes. "I just had a full conversation with him, and he sounded fine. I think I'd notice if he was fucking shot up on heroin."

Nick exhales loudly. "He was probably on it for a really long time, Lou -- "

"Shut up -- "

" -- he probably has a tolerance to it by now, that's all I'm saying." Nick won't back down, and Louis' too emotionally tired to be angry for this long, so he lets Nick finish. "He comes here, out of the blue, in the pouring rain with barely any clothes on, to what? To sleep? He looks so out of it, babe. You wouldn't have let him just go to sleep if you thought he was okay."

Louis crosses his arms, feeling defensive. He hates that Nick is right about that. "After everything he's been through, I don't expect him to be okay, high or not."

"Of course," Nick agrees, sounding genuine. "But I was listening to you two, and he seems to be having a tough time, you know? Maybe it's not impossible to believe he turned to drugs again to fix it."

It's not, is the thing. Harry wasn't acting right, Louis knows that. And Louis also knows from his time at the hospital how to deceiver when Harry's sad or angry or scared, and what the Harry in his living room is feeling right now doesn't match any of those. What paranoid, traumatized person would walk around New York in the pouring rain with no shoes without being some type of out of it? It might not be heroin, but it could be something. 

"Do I ask him?" Louis asks, giving into Nick's theory. He feels like a terrible person for even thinking Harry would do that; Harry didn't have a choice in getting hooked on heroin, but now that he's sober, he has more of a say, right? 

Louis scrubs a hand over his face.

"I would. I mean, I wouldn't want Anne figuring it out for herself. If he is high, that is.."

Louis thinks it over quickly before agreeing. He has seven or eight minutes before Anne gets here, so he needs to get this situation taken care of now. He already knows that Harry's going to tell him no, he's not high, and then Louis' going to ship a very sober Harry off to Anne, and then he and Nick can go back to watching  _ Golden Girls  _ and cuddling. 

He goes back to the living room, and Harry's eyes are closed. They open when Louis clears his throat, and then Harry makes a quiet noise before shutting them again. 

"H," Louis murmurs, sitting at the end of the couch by Harry's feet. Harry makes another noise but offers no other response. "Harry, come on. I need to talk to you." 

"'M awake," Harry says, sounding tired. "What's wrong?" He slowly moves and lifts himself up on his elbow, staring at Louis. His hair is so long; he wonders how come Anne hasn't got him to cut it yet. 

Louis takes a deep breath. He has to ask. He has to. And it's not like Harry's going to say yes, so he has to just get it over with.

"I just. Are you -- are you high, Harry? Is that why you're here?"

Harry blinks at him a few times before his face scrunches up, and for a horrible second, Louis thinks he's going to cry. He doesn't, thankfully. He's just staring, gaze so fucking intense it makes Louis want to tear his eyes away from him. "Barely," he says, slow. Louis' stomach drops. "Don't look at me like that. You don't get to judge me."

"Fuck, Harry," Louis snaps, not caring about the normal delicacy he treats Harry with. Just --  _ what? _ Harry's high again? After everything they went through to get him sober? And why the fuck did he think coming to Louis' was a good idea? "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Harry lays back down and pulls the covers over his shoulders again. It's a nonverbal  _ fuck off _ , but no. Louis' not going to let this slide, he isn't just going to let Harry sleep like nothing's wrong. 

"You said you were having a problem adjusting to your old life?" Louis asks, voice creeping up in volume. "Well, I can tell you that you didn't do fucking heroin to get through the day."

"Shut  _ up _ , Louis."

"No, I'm not going to shut up, because it took you fucking forever to get sober from it." Louis stands, too angry to sit still. Harry doesn't move, just continues to stare straight forward. "Do you seriously want to go through that again?"

"I just want a break," Harry whispers, closing his eyes. "I just want to be able to breathe for one second, is that really so bad?"

" _ Heroin  _ is bad, Harry."

"I don't care." 

Louis groans, beyond frustrated. "Your mom is on her way over here. What do you want me to tell her? Did you even think about what you breaking your sobriety would do to her?"

Harry does start crying then, and it's long overdue so Louis' not exactly surprised. He sits up straight shakily, his fists clenched around the blanket to make sure it doesn't fall off. He crosses his legs and looks up at Louis, and it's so unfair the way he looks so heartbreakingly upset. It makes Louis breathless. 

"You're the one that went out and shot up, Harry," Louis says. He's trying desperately to hold onto his anger. He's so sick of being sad and scared around Harry. "You don't get to look so hurt because of something  _ you  _ decided to do."

"I just wanted it to stop hurting for you one second," Harry whimpers out. Tears are streaming steadily down his still-gaunt cheeks. Louis wants to hug him and apologize for not being understanding, but he can't, and it just makes him more angry.

Not angry, he realizes. Overwhelmed. He's just so fucking overwhelmed. He knows addiction isn't a choice, and he knows Harry has ever right imaginable to be hurting, but shit. He went ahead and made things a whole lot harder for himself than they already are. 

"So you talk to your mom about it." He does his best to try and sound less like an arrogant judgmental shit and more like a concerned friend. He can be that for Harry, a friend. He has to be; to Harry, it must seem like there's not a lot of people on his side right now. "Or Gemma, or Robin, or me."

" _ You're _ yelling at me for coming to you, right now," Harry points out, eyes wide.

Louis sighs. 

"I'm not yelling," Louis says. "Or -- I am, I'm just. Stressed."

Harry's face falls. "I'm sorry."

"No, no. It's not your fault, don't do that." He comes back over to Harry and sits on the couch and hopes it makes him seem less angry. "I'd rather be stressed over trying to help you heal than not knowing where you were. So would your mom."

Harry's quiet for a moment before he speaks.

"Sometimes it feels like it would've been better for her if I never came back," he says finally, voice low. 

Louis can't help himself; he reaches forward to grasp Harry's knee firmly. He'd rather hold a hand, but he's already pushing it. He needs to get through to Harry somehow. "That's not true, Harry. You need to understand that that's really, really not true."

"I know it's not," he mumbles, looking in the opposite direction of Louis. It's his hand on his knee that's making him uncomfortable, Louis knows it is, so he removes it. He shouldn't have been so selfish to put it there in the first place. "That's why I said sometimes."

"Okay," Louis says, not sure what else to say. 

Neither of them say anything else until there's a knock at the door. Harry flinches, his hand immediately coming to Louis' forearm to seek out security, but Louis tells him softly that it's just his mom. He, extremely gently, takes Harry's hand off his arm and walks through the kitchen to the door. Nick is standing by the island still, looking tired, and Louis makes a mental note to apologize a hundred times tonight. 

Anne is a wreck when Louis opens the door, and he feels guilty about adding to her stress by telling her that Harry's high but he doesn't try and sugarcoat it, either. She almost cries when he tells her, and she immediately marches over to Harry and demands to know if he knows if the needle he used was clean or not. 

Louis gulps; he didn't even think of that.

Harry just scoffs sadly. "It's a little too late to worry about clean needles, isn't it?"

Louis' stomach plummets for the hundredth time that night. "What -- what's that supposed to mean?"

Anne shakes her head at him dismissively, but she goes on to tell him that's how Harry contracted Hepatitis C. Louis doesn't mean to be relieved, but he is. He doesn't know shit about that, but he does know about HIV, which can easily be spread through dirty needles.

"Harry," he says slowly. "You could get HIV or something using used needles. Don't be stupid."

"Didn't exactly finish college, did I, so I can't be blamed for being an idiot," Harry shoots back, glaring, and there's this hard layer over him now. He's more prickly since Anne got here, which doesn't make any sense. In the hospital, Harry would go all soft and childlike around Anne, and now, he's the total opposite. Maybe he's just being defensive because of the heroin, but Louis is pretty sure by Anne's tired look that it's more than that. 

Harry deflates a second later. "I didn't use a needle, anyway," he admits, looking down. "So you don't have to worry about that."

"How much did you take?" she demands.

Harry doesn't answer at first, and Anne looks furious. "Harry, come on. I need to know if you need a hospital or something."

"I don't," he rejects quickly. Anne doesn't look too convinced. "I just -- not a lot, okay? A little over two grams. I didn't have enough money for anything more." His eyes shoot up to Anne, and they're shiny with tears again. God, he must cry so much throughout the day. Louis' heart bleeds for him. "I took the money from your room. I'm pretty sure it was Robin's. I'm so sorry."

Anne can't hide the disappointment she so evidently feels, and Harry makes a small whining noise, like a dog on the street begging for a passerby's hamburger. It's heart-wrenching. "I know how shitty it was, I know, I just --  _ I don't know how to do this _ ."

He sounds so twisted up that Anne drops it and tells him quietly not to worry about the money. She sits down next to him on the sofa, and Harry quickly tucks himself into her side and clings, and Louis wishes so desperately he could be able to comfort him like that. 

"You're doing an amazing job, okay?" Anne whispers, stroking his hair. "There's no right way to cope with trauma as extensive as yours. I know that. Robin knows that. Your sister knows that. We're not disappointed in you, and we don't expect anything from you. You've got to stop setting such high standards for yourself, baby." She tries to smile for Harry, even though he can't see it from where his head is placed on her shoulder. "All I ask out of you is that you don't hurt yourself, with drugs or with anything else." She kisses the top of his head and runs her hand over his arm lightly. "And no more running off, okay? If you want to see Louis, or Niall or Zayn or anyone else, let me know and I'll be more than happy to drive you over."

"I used to be such a good person, Mom," Harry whispers, so quiet Louis barely hears him. 

"You still are, baby. The best I know."

"You don't know what I've done," Harry argues, just as quiet as before. Louis gets the feeling Harry's somewhere else right now, somewhere where he's forgotten about Louis listening, so he leaves the room quietly to give him some privacy. Barely any, because he just goes to the kitchen which is attached to the living room, but he can't hear Harry anymore and he can't see him when he goes to the fridge to get himself a water. 

"Is he okay?" Nick asks, coming over to Louis and wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close. Louis shuts the fridge and melts into him. Both the cold water and Nick make him feel so much better. He wishes it could be that easy for Harry. 

"Not really, no," Louis replies honestly. "But he's trying, you know? I think that's all we can ask of him right now."

"You're so fucking tense, love," Nick murmurs, moving so he can start rubbing at Louis' shoulders. It's easy, then, to drift out of reality, because like this, with Nick looking after him, he doesn't need to pay attention, he can afford to slip away for once. Still, as he stands there, he can't help but think back to what Harry said.

_I just want to be able to breathe for one second._ _I'm sorry_. _Sometimes it feels like it would've been better for her if I never came back_. _I used to be such a good person_. _You don't know what I've done_.

And, as he melts further and further into Nick, he recognizes how scary those words are and desperately hopes it's not a warning. 

For some reason, Harry refuses to go home with Anne. Nick thinks it has something to do with him feeling embarrassed, but Louis still can't help feeling slightly annoyed. Anne drove here in the rain to come get him, only to leave by herself again. She didn't want to leave Harry, she wanted to stay with him, but Harry begged her to just go and Louis promised he'd keep an eye on him. 

Louis stays downstairs with Harry while Nick goes upstairs to get ready for bed. Neither of them have any idea if Nick's presence is making Harry uncomfortable, and they'd rather Harry be as comfortable as possible, so Nick doesn't argue when Louis asks him to stay upstairs. Moose -- who Nick let outside when Harry first got here, Louis didn't even notice -- curls up with Harry while Ellie sticks close to Louis. 

Harry goes to sleep quickly, leaving Louis stuck watching TV by himself for a few hours until he's actually tired. Eventually, when he's tired enough to want to sleep and his mind has stopped racing, he's forced to sleep cramped in the arm chair, since Harry's taken the sofa. He doesn't actually mind -- the chair is comfortable enough -- but he'd much rather sleep in his bed, next to Nick. Nick probably wants him up there, too. 

He's so, so selfish sometimes. 

It's three o'clock in the morning when he's being shaken awake by a crying, hysterical Harry. Louis jolts awake, blinking in the dark as he tries to figure out what's wrong. 

"I wanna go home," Harry tells him shakily. "I really wanna go home."

"Okay, okay, I can take you home, it's okay," Louis soothes. 

He texts Nick that he'll be right back just in case he wakes up and wonders where he is, shoves on a pair of shoes, and grabs a pair of slippers for Harry, who's still crying. This is all so overwhelming, but he ignores that and guides Harry to the car, keeping a firm hand on his forearm. He's still drenched in fatigue, and he's practically running on some sort of weird autopilot, but he’s mostly okay to drive by the time he sits down in the driver’s seat and starts the car. 

Harry's hands are shaking so badly that he can't buckle his seatbelt by himself, so Louis does it for him. He then starts driving, heart still beating wildly in his chest from being woken so abruptly, and just tries to focus on getting Harry home. 

"I'm sorry," Harry says quietly, after a few minutes of silence. 

Louis slows to a stop at a red stoplight. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. Don't you have, like, work in the morning?"

"Yeah."

There's no point in denying it, and Louis hadn't really thought about that. It's three in the morning and he has to leave for work at seven. He's going to be exhausted all day. 

"What do you do?" Harry asks after a moment, sounding shy. "For, like. Work."

Louis doesn't respond at first, distracted by the stoplight turning green.

"I remember you were getting a degree in journalism," Harry murmurs. "Are you -- are you a journalist?"

Louis laughs, shaking his head. "No. Thank God." He wanted to be, he did, but the job outlook was shit and he finally listened to his mom who kept trying to push him in another direction. He ended up keeping it as a minor, but more so because he felt like an idiot for wasting so much money. "I switched my degree the semester after you went missing. I flunked out of that semester, 'cause I was so distracted with everything, and I took some time to figure out what I actually wanted to do."

"I'm so sorry," Harry whispers. .

He sighs. "You just apologized for being kidnapped, you realize that?" Louis asks, turning to look at Harry briefly. Harry shrugs a little stiffly before looking down, picking at his sweats. "It's fine," Louis promises. "Honestly. I like what I do now, anyway. I got a degree in sociology. I'm a family social worker now."

"Sounds hard."

"Not really." He flicks on his blinker and makes a right turn. "I just started working where I'm at now not too long ago. After I graduated, I got a job as a guidance counselor in a high school, which was, like, the worst thing ever. I've never seen so many girls cry before in my life. I did that for a little while until I got this new job, and it's a lot better, but -- I don't know. I don't really do much. I just sit around and go through new cases and mark which ones are the most critical."

Harry nods once before going quiet for a minute or so. Finally, he says, "I always pictured you being this, like, huge fashion writer or something." 

Louis scoffs, glancing at Harry, who's smiling a little, almost looking nostalgic. "Fashion? I don't care about fashion."

"Yeah, well. I did." He shrugs, looking at Louis before immediately looking back down at his lap. "You were a good writer, Lou. I don't get why you just quit that."

"I didn't quit," Louis denies, doing his best to sound gentle. He just completely destroyed a part of Harry's reality; he keeps forgetting how easy it is to do that. "I have a minor in it. And you don't _ really _ need a degree to be a journalist. I can do that whenever."

"You should," Harry whispers. "I liked reading your stuff in college."

He did. Whenever Louis wrote a practice article on whatever for school, he'd send it to Harry so he could proof-read it. Harry was doing a double degree in English and business, and he was good at editing essays. Hae always made sure to add cute little comments like 'I like this part :)' or 'ooh big word' because he was afraid of making Louis feel bad by how many critiques he had made about it. The memory makes Louis' heart ache. Things were so  _ easy _ back then. 

"Hey," Louis says softly. Harry looks over at him, and this time, he doesn't look away. "About what you said earlier, about being stupid for not finishing college -- you don't really mean that, right?" Harry doesn't say anything, and Louis sighs. "Haz. You always did so well in school. You've always been so fucking smart. Not finishing college doesn't mean anything, okay? You were almost halfway done with your degrees, anyway. Give yourself a little more credit."

"Halfway finishing my schooling doesn't get me into jobs," Harry argues, glancing out the window. "All I have is a high school diploma and I'm twenty-six." He sounds emotional; Louis wants so badly to be able to help. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"

"I worked for six years without a degree, H," Louis reminds. 

"At restaurants and department stores. I don't want that for the rest of my life."

"Harry, come on," Louis begs. If he keeps looking over at Harry, he's going to get in a car accident, but he can't help it, not when Harry sounds so upset. "You don't need a job."

Harry turns to look at him fast, eyes fierce. "What, you want me to be unemployed for the rest of my life?"

"Not the rest of your life, no. But right now, with everything that just happened. . . You don't need to be worrying about getting a job."

"What does that give me to look forward to?" Harry asks, voice tight. Louis struggles with a response, and before he can come up with one, Harry starts shaking his head. "Exactly. I have nothing to look forward to."

"Please don't sound so defeated already," Louis whispers. "You've only been back a couple of months."

Harry doesn't respond to that, and neither of them say anything for the rest of the car ride. It makes Louis feel like shit, but he can't come up with anything useful to say that Harry can't turn into a negative somehow. 

When they pull up to Harry's house, Louis walks him up to the door and knocks quietly, Harry hovering closely behind him. (Louis' walked him up the same driveway so many times after dates, and now would be the time Louis would kiss him and leave. So, _ so _ easy.)

Anne answers the door in her pajamas, looking exhausted and worried. When she sees Harry, she nods like she was expecting this. 

"Come on, baby," she says, and Harry wraps his arms around himself and steps in front of Louis to go inside. Anne thanks Louis quietly and Louis nods. He turns away to go back to the car, but a quick hand on his arm stops him. He turns back around to see Harry there, looking apologetic. 

"Nick seems really nice," Harry says, breathless. "I just thought I should say that." 

"Thank you. That means a lot," Louis replies thickly. Harry nods at him before retracting his hand. He goes inside quickly and shuts the door, and Louis stands there for a few seconds, unable to move. 

While Nick goes off to Australia, Louis doesn't mean to make Harry his whole focus and main priority, he really doesn't. It just happens. 

The third day of Nick being gone, Harry shows up at their doorstep again. It's four-thirty in the afternoon this time, it's not raining, and Louis just got home from work twelve minutes ago. Still in his work clothes, Louis answers the door, and when he sees Harry, his heart drops. 

"You better not be high again," is the first thing Louis says. 

"I'm _ not _ ," Harry denies, defensive. He crosses his arms and glances off to the side. He's wearing shoes this time, which makes Louis more inclined to believe him. 

"Okay," he says slowly, opening the door wider so Harry can come in. He does. "Good. Does your mom know you're here?"

"Um," Harry starts, and immediately, Louis sighs. "Don't do that. I'm sorry. Robin's at work and my mom had to go to the grocery store. I just. . . didn't want to be alone."

"So you call me so I can pick you up. Or you call your mom, and tell her you're going." Louis doesn't mean to sound so angry, but he can't help it. Harry shouldn't be doing that, and Louis still doesn't quite understand how he feels comfortable enough to walk here.

Harry murmurs another small apology as Louis sends Anne a text.  _ He's at mine again, don't worry.  _

"Wait," Harry says before Louis presses send. "I wanna stay here for a little while."

Louis wants to ask why, but out of fear that'll scare him off, Louis just nods and adds,  _ He says he wants to stay here for a little, I'll drop him off after dinner xx _

Harry doesn't seem like he's in the mood to talk, so after Louis gets changed into more comfortable clothes, he turns on Netflix. They're advertising  _ Avengers: Infinity War _ again on the homepage, and Louis has already seen it with Nick so he doesn't think about watching it again, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harry furrow his eyebrows in confusion. 

When they were younger, they watched every Marvel movie to come out in theaters.  _ Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, Iron Man 2, Thor _ . The last movie they saw together before Harry's disappearance was  _ Captain America: The First Avenger _ , and Marvel has put out a lot of movies since then. 

"They have a few Marvel movies on here," Louis tells him, doing his best to smile even though he feels terrible inside. He sits on the sofa, as far from Harry as he can without it being obvious. Harry's evidently feeling overwhelmed today and he doesn't want to add to that in any way. "Do you want to watch one?"

Harry nods once, so Louis ends up turning on  _ Black Panthe _ r -- he figures that's the movie with the least need-to-know background information.

A few minutes into it, Harry clears his throat quietly. "I forget sometimes that things have changed," he murmurs. 

"That's okay. I understand."

Harry nods again and turns his attention back on the movie. Moose comes over to curl up between Harry and Louis a few minutes later, Ellie following not too long after. For the most part, Ellie and Moose leave each other be, but when Moose is calm, Ellie will creep up and lay with him. It never fails to make Louis' heart sing with happiness. 

"Did you know my cat died?" Harry asks as he reaches over to pet Ellie. It sounds kind of morbid, with the way Harry says it so nonchalantly. 

"Yeah. A few years back. I remember." 

Harry nods -- he does that a lot, doesn't he? -- and continues to pet Ellie. He's frowning a little. 

"She was old, Haz,” Louis tells him. “Even before you went missing."

"I know," Harry says, glancing up. "It's okay. I just -- it was weird, coming home and her not being there."

"No, yeah. I bet it was."

They finish watching the movie in silence apart from a few exchanges of small talk. After they're done, Louis asks Harry what he wants for dinner, to which Harry replies that he's not really hungry. After a few minutes of pestering and pointed looks, Harry budges and agrees to eat some spaghetti. Louis is starting to boil the water when Harry comes into the kitchen. He jumps up on the counter beside the stove, watching closely as Louis moves around the kitchen. 

"You never used to cook," Harry points out, watching Louis grab the noodles from the pantry. "When we lived together, I mean. I was always the one who did it."

"I cooked _ sometimes _ ," Louis says, glaring at him playfully as he opens the box. "But Nick's a lousy cook too, and one of us have to do it unless we wanna starve to death."

Harry hums, and Louis' pretty sure he's hiding his real emotions to please him. "Where is Nick, anyway?"

"Australia. For work." He does his best to not sound sad.

"Oh." Harry looks genuinely interested. "What does he do?"

"International PR for a car company." He pours the noodles in. "He'll be back in a little less than a month."

"That sucks," Harry murmurs, staring down at the pot. 

Louis shrugs. "I've gotten used to it."

And he has, to some extent. The first time Nick left him for a long period of time, he had been the most anxious he's ever been in his entire life.  _ I already don't know where Harry is, and now Nick's gone and fucked off, too _ . That's how he always thought, which maybe is stupid because a work trip and a kidnapping are two very different things. Still, Louis woke up in the middle of the night with a start almost every night the first time Nick left him. Now, he sleeps decent and he doesn't fret about not knowing exactly where Nick is. The only parts that haven't gotten easier is missing Nick like mad, and having to watch Ellie and Moose miss him too. 

Harry opens his mouth and then closes it quickly, and Louis looks at him expectantly. "It's just," Harry starts, and Louis hates how much Harry avoids eye-contact. He used to give everyone that intense, laser-focused look when they were talking, and now he won't even look Louis in the eye. It's unnerving. "When we. . . when we dated," he looks up at Louis quickly to make sure Louis doesn't look angry and then immediately back down. He doesn't finish, so Louis must have some type of look on his face. 

"You can talk about us," Louis says carefully. "It's okay, I swear. You can talk about anything you want."

Harry nods but doesn't say anything for a little while. "When we dated," he starts again, "I remember you went away that one time over spring break. I don't remember where, but. . . I hated it, and it was only for a week. I can't imagine a month. That's a shitty job."

Louis swallows down the lump growing in his throat. "Yeah, I remember that. Me and Stan went down to Georgia to visit his grandma."

Harry continues to watch him stir, and it takes Louis a little too long to realize what that might be about. He glances at Harry and smiles. "Wanna help?"

Harry immediately pulls backward. "What?"

"You can, if you want to. You can make the sauce, or -- or just the garlic bread. Whatever you want."

Harry chews on his lip silently for about a minute before he nods. It's small and lightning-quick, but it's there. 

"Yeah?" Louis asks, smiling wide. 

"Just the garlic bread," Harry mumbles, hopping off the counter. "Can't mess that up, can I?" 

It's a small, easy task, but it makes Harry happy nonetheless. He's obviously anxious and slightly overwhelmed, and he drops the package once, but it's okay, because in the end, they're eating at the dining table in the kitchen, and Harry has a quiet look of pride on his face. Louis won't point it out, or do something stupid like congratulate him, but he's still proud.

Harry's a bit brighter and slightly less anxious for the rest of the time he's there, and when Louis drives him home, they have a nice conversation about Gemma. It gets a little depressing when Harry mentions that he's beyond upset that he didn't get to see Gemma fall in love with her long-term boyfriend Daniel, and then Harry murmurs quietly, "It's not like they got engaged though, I didn't miss that," and Louis doesn't miss the purposeful dig there, but they quickly move on and talk about something else.

Anne looks irritated when she opens the door, and Louis tells her quietly that it's okay, and Harry murmurs an apology. She invites Louis in, though the bags under his eyes communicate that she doesn't actually want him to, so he declines. When he gets home, he takes Moose out for a walk, and when he's done, the first thing he does is text Anne.

_ have you given any thought to getting a new cat? _

"I don't like being so far away from you right now," Nick mumbles quietly into the phone. It's only ten in the morning where Nick is, while it's eight at night in New York. Nick has a twenty minute break from a meeting, and he's spending it tucked away into an office corner talking to Louis.

It's the day after Harry gave him a visit, and Louis told Nick a few minutes ago about their little movie-and-spaghetti bonding experience. For some stupid reason, Louis had been nervous that Nick would be mad, but he wasn't. More so concerned about Harry's safety, because neither of them like Harry walking around over twenty minutes by himself to get to Louis and Nick's house. It's not smart, and considering Harry refuses to even go to the grocery store with his mom because he's afraid, it's a bit shocking, too. 

"Nick, it's alright. I promise."

Moose runs over to him, panting, with the tennis ball Louis just threw in his mouth. Louis hadn't felt like giving him a walk tonight, so throwing the ball back and forth in their background should hopefully wear him out. 

"I feel like a shitty boyf--  _ fiancé. _ "

"You're a wonderful fiancé. The best." He throws the ball for Moose again, watching the Boxer run after it happily. "Seriously, babe. I'm okay. All he's doing is talking to me more, and that's. . . that's good, right? Really good. I'm happy."

There's some muffle chattering and then Nick's saying, "yeah, okay, sure," and Louis closes his eyes. He knows what's coming, knows that Nick's going to have to let him go. "Look, Lou," he starts, and Louis smiles tightly even though Nick can't see him. 

"Go, it's fine. Try not to be too bored."

"Ugh, I'm sorry. Really. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Louis pulls the phone away from his ear so he can disconnect the call. After he does, a message with a photo attachment is waiting for him on his lockscreen. It's from an unknown number. Louis clicks it open, and a picture of a Siamese kitten with big, blue eyes and light fur framing them pops up, along with the text  _ I don't know what to name her. My mom wants to name her something dumb like Hope or Faith but I don't think those fit her.  _

Louis smiles wide and ignores Moose as he scampers up towards him, panting hard.  _ she looks like a penelope,  _ he sends.

_ How can you look at a kitten and name it Penelope? _ Harry texts back, almost immediately. Louis wonders briefly when Anne got him a phone, but that doesn't really matter right now. 

_ hey i think it's a cute name. penny for short. _

_ Fine. Miss Penelope says hello.  _

A part of Louis wants to point out how good of a mood Harry's in, though that would just ruin it, wouldn't it, so he sends a hand-waving emoji with a cat one. Harry doesn't respond, so Louis tucks his phone in his back pocket, still grinning, and calls Moose inside. He willingly comes, and when Louis opens the door, he immediately goes to the water bowl near the backdoor. Ellie meows at Louis from where she's perched on the table, and Louis greets her with a soft pat. 

As he lays down for the night to go his giant, lonely bed, Harry -- who is now entered in Louis' contacts where he belongs, -- sends him a picture of Penelope curled up on his chest. She looks soft, and she's so, so tiny, barely taking up any space on Harry. 

_ Thank you Lou _ , it says under it. S _ eriously. She's been good at distracting me. My mom says thank you too.  _

_ i'm glad you're happy _ , he writes, even though he knows it might be pushing it. He doesn't know what else to say though, so he leaves it and presses send. 

Work is boring. Beyond boring. 

Maybe it's an unsympathetic thing to think while he writes ' _ URGENT ATTENTION SUGGESTED _ ' on a sticky note that he's about to put on a case file that documents the alleged horrific abuse going on with a three-year-old, but he thinks it anyway. He wants to start actually  _ helping  _ people, and he isn't yet. There's five or six other urgent cases Louis' picked out of a stack of twenty-five; he wants to help them, not write them off and give their cases to people who probably have given up on helping these families a long time ago. 

It's around noon when his phone vibrates in his pocket. His boss Melissa is in her office, so he pulls his phone out to see what it is. He's pretty sure she won't care -- she's nice and calls Louis' enthusiasm 'refreshing' -- but he only started working here a little over a year ago, so he tries to make it as inconspicuous as he can. He thinks maybe it's Nick, although he's pretty sure it's too late (too early? He doesn't have the time zone difference memorized yet) so he's not too surprised to see it's someone else. Harry, to be more specific, which is something that has thankfully been becoming less and less rare. 

_ My mom's going back to work in a few days i don't know what to do, _ is what his text says, and Louis' stomach plummets. 

_ Shit, _ is all he can think clearly.  _ Shit shit shit shit shit _ . He'd been expecting it to happen soon, but not this soon. The Styles family aren't exactly what you'd call the epitome of financial stability, and that was even before Harry's hugely expensive medical bills came into the picture. As far as Louis' aware, they're never struggling to pay bills on time or anything like that, but he knows Anne would feel a lot better if she went back to work. 

_ you're going to be fine, harry. it's okay. you have penny now and you can text her or call her anytime you need. _

After pressing send, he quickly exits the chat to text Anne and ask if she's with Harry, to which she responds that he had a massive panic attack when she told him and locked himself in the bathroom about ten minutes ago. Louis rubs at his forehead, stress levels immediately skyrocketing. 

_ No louis i don't want to be alone all day again i just want her to stay home. Why won't she just stay with me _

Tears spring to Louis' eyes.  _ 'Again' _ . He doesn't want to know what Harry's referring to. c _ an you call me?  _

_ No i don't want to talk on the phone right now _

_ okay _ , he acquiesces. There's nothing that can ease Louis' nerves like hearing Harry's voice would, but he can't do much about it, can he?  _ but you're never going to be alone again, okay? never ever. you have me and your mom and robin and gemma and penny all looking out for you.  _

_ Gemma's boyfriend is going to stay with me during the day when nobody else can but i've never met him before louis _

Louis gnaws on his bottom lip _. Daniel's a good guy. Not very chatty, but he's nice. Trust me.  _

God, what is Anne thinking? Sticking a complete stranger with Harry is probably one of the stupidest things she could do. He's sure there's some parts of the story that he's not hearing, that Anne isn't being thoughtless about this, because she takes care of her son like nobody else can, but it still irritates him. Aside from doctors, nurses, and detectives, Louis' almost positive Harry hasn't been exposed to a stranger yet, and that scares Louis. It probably  _ petrifies _ Harry. 

_ Louis can you please just talk to her and make her stay home? only for a few more weeks i swear i just can't do this without her right now. please  _

He calls Anne because he doesn't really have another choice, not with the way Harry's breaking his fucking heart. She answers on the second ring and is quick to explain that no, she's not abandoning him and leaving him with some stranger. She's only working Monday through Thursday, and Zayn is staying with him on Monday, Daniel’s taking Tuesday's, Niall on Wednesdays and Robin on Thursdays. So, really, Harry didn't exactly do a great job of relaying the details, but Louis can't blame him. He's freaking out over the fact that Anne's leaving him --  _ again _ echoes in his mind -- and, to make it worse, one of the days she's leaving him with a stranger. 

"Anne, he's really upset," Louis murmurs unhelpfully, biting on his thumbnail. 

"I know he is, Louis, but I don't know what else to do. Liam works Monday through Friday, and so do you and Gemma." She sighs deeply. "I was speaking to a therapist and she suggested that I start a routine with him. She said that me holding his hand through everything could be preventing him in having any breakthroughs, and I -- he needs to get better, Louis. He needs to start making some sort of progress. I'd give him all the time in the world, believe me, but for the sake of his sanity, he needs to start getting better."

"He made garlic bread with me the other night," Louis says, and he doesn't realize how stupid it sounds until he says it out loud. 

"And that's great, honey, it is. But he's," she lowers her voice, "he's still lashing out all of the time, especially since he went out and got high that one time. He's irritable, especially with me, and he's so paranoid all the time. I don't know how to help him. He woke me up in the middle of the night yesterday and he was hyperventilating so badly I thought I was going to have to take him to the hospital. He wouldn't leave my side for the rest of the night. When I had to get up to use the bathroom he cried and cried and cried and -- Louis. I mean, how do I help him?"

"He needs you, Anne," he whispers, guilt creeping up on him. "He woke _ you _ up last night because he needs _ you _ . You're his mom."

"It's been three months since he's been back," she says. This time, she sounds sharper. Colder. "I don't want him spending his freedom huddled up by himself in his room all day, having panic attacks when someone knocks on the door and refusing to shower until I force him to. He won't see a therapist. He's still barely eating half the time." She lets out a rough breath. "This morning we couldn't find Penny for  _ five _ minutes and you'd think she'd been missing for days with the way he was acting."

"He needs time to accept this is real, Anne." He tries to pick his words carefully; the last thing he wants to do is put Anne under the impression he thinks he could be doing any better, because he couldn't. "He probably isn't convinced this is where he's going to stay for the rest of his life. I mean, when he was younger, he never even thought of the possibility of being kidnapped -- who would? But then he was. And it probably took him a long time to accept that nobody could find him, and then all of a sudden, after years, he gets found? There's no way he feels ready to call this permanent. He needs time to understand that none of us are going anywhere."

Anne's quiet for a moment, and for a second, Louis thinks he's offended her. He's about to apologize, to take all his words back and choke on them, but before he has to, she sniffles. Louis closes his eyes, his heart aching even more. 

"He's told me some things about -- about what it was like." Her voice is thick; tears threaten to pour down on Louis' cheeks. "I'm sure he'll tell you in his own time, but. . . He has scars all over him, Louis. There's these -- these three scars on his hip that look so. . . I don't even know. But the scar tissue is thick there, and it looks like whatever happened was the most painful thing a person could go through, and I. I asked him what had happened, I couldn't help myself, and he looked up at me with this defeated look and said, 'Mom? I can't remember for the life of me, and I'm kind of relieved that I don't.' Louis. How could something like that happen to someone, and then they have no recollection of it? I don't. . . I don't understand." 

Louis says, "I don't," but he stops himself when his voice catches. He can't fucking cry, he's at work, for fuck's sake. "I don't know, Anne. But it’s probably a good thing he can't remember, like he said. And he -- the doctors said it was evident he was a chronic heroin user; maybe he was drugged for a lot of it. Maybe that's a good thing, I don't know." He sighs, opening his eyes. Thankfully, he works off to the side towards the back, and he's been keeping his voice hushed, so no one is paying him any attention. "But he needs us, okay? And you can't -- throwing that on him was a really bad idea, Anne. I don't mean to be disrespectful, but you should've told him sooner, or maybe not the day after he was up all night crying."

"I know," she says, sounding sad. "He's like that the majority of the time, though. It's why I've pushed off telling him for so long. And I didn't want to ruin one of his good days, you know?"

"Yeah. No, yeah. That makes sense." He thinks for a few seconds before nodding to himself. "Well, look. My boss is in today. I can ask her if I can take Tuesdays off -- "

"No. No. I can't ask you to do that."

He takes a deep breath. "I already work six days a week, okay, so removing one day from my availability won't be the end of the world. And if she thinks it is, well. . . I don't know, she can fire me, I guess. Harry's going to be a lot more comfortable with me instead of Daniel."

"Of course he will be," she admits quietly. "He misses you a lot, you know. And he really loves Penny. That was a good idea, thank you."

"Anything for him," he mumbles, standing up. There's only three other people in the office right now, but two of them have earbuds in and the other is taking a call on their work phone, so he's pretty sure he didn't expose anything too personal to his coworkers. "I'm gonna go talk to my boss really quick, okay? I'll text you what she says."

He hangs up once she says goodbye and walks to Melissa's office. He's never actually invited himself in here before, so it's nerve-wracking, but he sucks it up because Harry's sitting on the bathroom floor right now, coming down from a panic attack and praying that Louis fixes this for him somehow. 

He does, thankfully. Melissa doesn't need more of an explanation other than 'family issues'. She asks if whatever is going on has anything to do with why he was absent from work for so long before, and when he tells her yes, she immediately agrees and wishes Louis the best. When he's about to leave, she gives him a smile and says softly, "Go home, Louis. You're clearly distraught over something. It's okay. Just give the rest of your case files to Michelle or Kenny and take the rest of the day off."

"Melissa. . . I -- I have four hours left of my shift. I can't just leave."

"Louis, please. Seriously." She points her pen at him and says, "I'd go quick. I'm feeling nice right now, but that might not last forever. Go, shoo."

He leaves after thanking her probably a hundred times. He sheepishly gives a hefty stack of files to Kenny, because Michelle is on the phone and Jim gave Louis a chocolate muffin once, and then leaves. When he gets to his car, he texts Anne that it's taken care of and goes back to his conversation with Harry. There are a few texts that he didn't see before, but it's nothing more than nervous rambling on Harry's end, so he tries not to dwell on it. He writes, _ hey love, i'll spend tuesdays with you instead of Daniel, but your mom has to start up work again, i'm sorry.  _

It takes Harry a few minutes to respond, and when he does, Louis' driving so he can't look at it. Once he's home, he opens the text. _ Lou i don't want her leaving me _

_ she's not leaving you, haz. she's going to work. she'll come home every night, okay? so if you have a nightmare or something, she'll be right there. _

_ Louis i dont know _

_ i know it sounds scary,  _ Louis writes, _ but you'll be fine. trust me. plus i really wanna meet penny.  _

Harry starts and stops texting a few times, if the disappearing and reappearing three dots are anything to go by, and then finally, a new picture of Penelope comes through. She's peering up at the camera, head slightly cocked, her bright blue eyes looking even more beautiful with the light blue bathroom tiles complementing them perfectly. There's no text to go with it, but it's enough. Louis saves the picture to his phone, and sits down on the sofa.

The only thing he has to look forward to tonight is Nick's call. This is usually the point in the night where Louis gets sad and lonely, so he pops open a bottle of red wine and texts Zayn a random picture of Moose in the hopes that he can be distracted. 

The whole going back to work thing for Anne fails miserably. 

She takes back her accounting position at a nearby bank on a Thursday; this way, they can test the waters a bit. She won't be away from Harry four days in a row for the first test-run, which Anne tells Louis soothed some of Harry's nerves, especially since Robin is going to be the one to keep an eye on Harry throughout the day on Thursdays. Harry's used to Robin living there, used to him being a constant, so he's the perfect person to help ease Harry into the new routine. 

Despite Anne's precautions, it doesn't work. Louis gets a text around one o'clock, only five hours into her shift, that she's on her way home, and later on, when Harry's calmed down, she calls him and fills him in on what exactly happened. Apparently, Harry had been a nervous wreck all day, more so than usual, and he was fighting his second panic attack of the day when he vomited. That's not normal for Harry, she tells him, so Robin called her and asked what he should do and Anne decided working wasn't worth putting Harry through so much emotional distress.

Louis agrees, and he expects this whole thing to be over and done with, but it's not. Of course it's not. When is anything ever that simple?

That's why on Saturday after work, instead of going home, Louis drives over to the Styles' house. Anne asked him to, because Harry's doing really bad again, like how he was after he got home from the hospital. Louis wasn't allowed to be there for that bit, so he obviously doesn't know what that specifically entails, but he doesn't ask her to elaborate. She's feeling extremely guilty for this entire thing, even though it's not entirely her fault. 

He doesn't knock, remembering what Anne said about Harry getting scared when that happens, so he texts her that he's here and waits for her to open the door. When she does, she gives him a wiry smile and motions for him to come in. She looks more tired than normal. Maybe even a little paler, too. His heart bleeds for her, but he's not really in the mood for small talk and apparently neither is she, because she tells him tiredly that Harry's in his room upstairs without saying hello first. He gives a small wave to Robin who's sitting on the couch as he passes, and Robin gives him a small nod in return. 

On the way up the stairs, he debates with himself whether it'd spook Harry more if he knocked or if he just walked in, but when he gets to Harry's room, the doors already open. He takes a deep breath -- he's not sure what to expect in the slightest -- before standing in the doorway. 

Harry's laying in bed, on top of the covers, and with his back facing away from the center of the bed. His arm is moving back and forth gently every few seconds, and Louis' pretty sure he's petting Penny. That's a good sign, at least. He stands there for a few more seconds before clearing his throat and making his presence known.

Immediately, Harry jolts, head whipping towards the door as his knees curl towards his chest. He looks frightened for a moment, but when he sees it's just Louis, his fear turns into confusion. 

"What are you doing here?" Harry asks, voice low. 

Louis fakes a smile. "I heard you could use a friend, is all." Harry's lips press into a firm line, and Louis tries to recover. "And meet Penny, of course." It seems to do somewhat of the trick, because Harry shrugs a little and lays back down, though now his shoulders are tense. Louis takes that as an okay to come in, and he rounds the bed so he can see Harry's face again. Louis sits on his knees on the floor before lifting a hand to pet Penny's soft fur with Harry. 

She's as cute as the pictures promised, all big eyes and tiny feet. Nick and Louis adopted Ellie when she was three; it seemed too selfish to buy a kitten when all kittens are adopted almost immediately and the older cats are left to die. But Penny is exactly what Harry needed -- young and energetic and social. She's adorable, too. Harry's hand is bigger than the span of her belly, which makes her seem even smaller. 

When Louis strokes a finger over her back leg, she mewls quietly at him. Louis glances up at Harry to make sure it's okay to touch her, and Harry nods, smiling slightly. She stretches out, loving the attention, her purrs loud and happy. 

"What'd my mom say to get you here?" Harry asks, not looking at Louis.

Louis sighs quietly. 

"Just that you're more upset than usual. But I want to be here for you. I'm glad she told me."

"I don't need everyone going out of their way to please me all the time." He sounds frustrated. "I'm fine. I can figure it out on my own."

"We're your family, H. That's what we're supposed to do."

Harry shakes his head. "You have your own family now."

"Don't say that," Louis snaps, almost surprised at how angry it makes him. It's just -- that's fucking  _ absurd _ . "I've always thought of you as family. We were practically raised together, Harry, and just because I have Nick now doesn't change that."

"Nick changes a lot of things, Louis."

"I'm not arguing about him with you again," Louis says calmly. He's supposed to be the mature one here, and he needs to act like it. He can't let himself get so emotional, even though he feels so much right now. "I'm here because I care about you, and because I want nothing more than for you to heal."

Harry doesn't say anything, and at first Louis thinks it's out of anger, but when he looks up, Harry has tears running down his cheeks. When he sees that Louis' noticed, he shakes his head and tucks his face into his arm, lets out a quiet sob. Louis shifts Penny out of the way slightly so Harry doesn't squish her and quietly shushes Harry. 

"You're alright, H, you're okay." 

"I'm never gonna get better, Louis, I'm never -- " he chokes out a sob, "I can't, it's been too long. I'm -- I'm stuck like this. I can't do anything,  _ anything  _ by myself, I can't -- I can't  _ do _ this."

It's so fucking hard not to be able to physically comfort him right now. He wants to hug him or cuddle him up or at the very least hold his hand, squeeze it as hard as he can so he can communicate just how much Louis cares about him. "Yes, you can. You already are. You're doing as good as anyone could ever expect."

"I couldn't handle five hours without my mom. She's gonna fucking hate me."

Louis' heart clenches. "She could never."

"She's gonna get sick of me eventually," Harry argues, still crying. "She's gonna -- she's gonna get sick of me, and she's not going to want to take care of me anymore, she -- I'm twenty-six, I should be out of the house, she's too old to have to worry about me or Gems. She's gonna hate me, Louis."

"Haz, please stop thinking that way." He scratches at his head, thinking about what the hell he could say to fix the mess inside Harry's right now. He draws a blank. "Can I -- can I hold your hand right now?" Harry cries harder, and Louis cringes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't ask again."

Harry shifts his head slightly so he can see Louis before he reaches out the hand that was petting Penny. He grabs Louis' forearm, his grip tight and breath shaky. Maybe being the one to do the touching is different than being touched, Louis' not exactly sure, but he doesn't push it. He's just glad he has a piece of Harry back. 

"Anne could never hate you, okay?" Harry doesn't respond, and Louis sighs. "She's worried about you. So am I."

Harry's grip tightens to the point it almost hurts. "I'm sorry."

Louis presses his lips together and nods once. He moves the arm Harry isn't holding to rest against the bed and lays his chin on it. Belatedly, he realizes he probably looks overly gentle, like an overbearing, concerned parent or something, but he doesn't move. Harry's looking at him, eyes glossy and mouth slightly agape, shaky breaths escaping him. "We just wanna know what's going on in your head right now, H. You seem. . . your mom's worried you've had a setback, and that's okay if you have, we just wanna know what we can do to help."

Harry glances down at Penny, who's laying between them, sleeping soundly. If it were Ellie, she'd be rubbing up on Harry, concerned, but maybe Penny's too young to know how to worry about her owner. He lets go of Louis' arm to go back to petting Penny, and Louis' heart breaks a little, desperate to get that physical contact back. 

Louis’ ring feels heavy on his finger, acting as a reminder that Harry doesn't have to give him anything anymore. 

"It's stupid, I know, but. . ." Harry clears his throat and moves to wipe his tears on his arm before shifting to look back at Penny. "When I was gone, when -- when I wasn't here anymore, and I was. . . there, I always wanted to be back home. It was something I held on to so tightly, you know? Whenever bad stuff was happening, it'd be like a loop in my head.  _ I wanna go home, I wanna go home, I wanna go home _ . And it was naive to think all my problems would go away when I got here, I know that now, but. I don't know. Being back home was all I wanted for six years, and I thought walking through the door again would bring, like, a weight off my shoulders or something, but it didn't. It made me feel _ worse _ , in some ways."

Louis furrows his eyebrows. "Haz -- "

"Please don't," he murmurs, shaking his head. "It's not that. I like being back home, obviously. It's just. . . sometimes, even when I'm here, all I can think is  _ I wanna go home, I wanna go home _ . And at first I thought it was because I was so used to thinking that, so used to having that on repeat in my head." He sniffles. "I thought it'd go away, like. That when it finally felt real that I was back, it'd stop. And it hasn't, and the other day when I was -- when my mom was at work, it's all I could think, and I. . . I realized that it's because I'm still not home." His voice is growing tighter and tighter, on the verge of crying again. "I'm still not home, because home for me was our apartment. Home for me was you and me  _ in _ our apartment, together. And I can never have that again because -- because you got rid of it, you just. . . walked away from it, from our  _ home _ ."

Louis' eyes burn and his chin wobbles with the need to cry. He feels so stupid and guilty and embarrassed, and above all  _ betrayed _ , somehow, because that's not fucking fair. Louis couldn't take living there anymore, he couldn't keep being surrounded in Harry's things knowing that Harry was out somewhere, getting raped and beaten and maybe even dead. Harry should understand that, he should try and realize what that was doing to Louis, but he can't because all he can see is the ring clinging onto Louis' finger, and maybe Louis deserves this for finding Nick. Maybe this is what it's just going to be like for the rest of his life, Harry feeling heartbroken over something Louis couldn't control. It just  _ happened _ . 

"Someone else is probably living there by now, Lou," Harry whispers, voice trembling. "You let a stranger into our  _ home. _ How could you do that? How could you -- how could you give up on me like that?"

Louis recoils, shaking his head incredulously. "I never gave up on you. I never, ever stopped hoping for you, don't fucking say that."

Harry's crying again, eyes wide and full of confusion. "So you moved on thinking I was still alive? You could just do that?" He sits up, sitting with his legs criss-crossed, elbows on his knees and head in hands. Louis can't see his face like this, but he doesn't want to. He can't apologize for something like this, can't fix Harry's hurt with words. "I thought we were more than that. I thought you loved me."

"I do, I do, I -- " Louis wipes at his face. "I did, Harry. I loved you, and I loved living with you, and I wanted everything you wanted for us, but you -- you were  _ gone _ , Harry. I couldn't stand being alone."

Harry looks over at him, shoulders still hunched forward. "You do or you did?" he asks. Louis feels so overwhelmed right now that he can't even begin to understand what Harry's asking. Harry clarifies. "You do love me, or you did?"

He feels hot all over, chest tight with panic. He scrambles for an answer, for the  _ right  _ answer, but there isn't one, is there? He knows which answer Nick would expect from him, and which Harry's hoping for, and he can't pick between them. He can't and he won't, and Nick would never ask him to, so how dare Harry sit in front of him and simplify this whole fucked up situation to if Louis loves him or not. Louis loving Harry in past tense or present tense wouldn't erase what happened to Harry, or the fact that Louis was lonely as fuck until he met Nick, or the fact that he's fucking engaged to another man, who he's extremely sure he loves in present tense. It's not a fair fucking question. 

"Louis, answer me."

Louis just looks at him, at a loss for words. How the fuck is he supposed to answer that?

"Louis, seriously, just answer the fucking question. I deserve that much."

"I -- "  _ shit shit shit shit shit shit, say something _ . "I'll always love you to some degree, Harry."

Harry scoffs, shaking his head. "That's a bullshit answer."

"But it's true," Louis says, trying to make Harry understand. "You were the first person I ever loved, and we -- there was no falling out or anything, and we never really ended, so of course I still love you to some extent. That's not bullshit."

"Fine," Harry mumbles, although he doesn’t look too convinced. "I guess that's fair."

Louis lets out a deep breath. "Thank you."

An awkward tension cuts through the room, and neither of them quite know how to talk around it, so they don't. Harry's hurt, and Louis' aggravated because now Harry's gone and made him feel like this is all his fault somehow. He knows it's not, he knows it, but it still feels like it is. 

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not good for anybody," Harry whispers a few minutes later, voice raw and tired. "Everyone's so stressed because of me, and I keep. . . I keep getting upset with my mom, and I don't mean to, I just -- " he sighs deeply and runs his hands over his face. He stays like that, head in his hands, and Louis notices there's a white scar running across the side of his hand. It's not that long, only three or four inches, and it looks faded in a way that makes Louis wonder if he had it prior to this mess. He doesn't remember if it was there or not before, and it makes him feel even more guilty for some reason.

"Your mom missed you so much, H," Louis tells him, just as quietly. "We all did. Trust me, she can handle a few outbursts every now and then." He suddenly feels stupid for sitting on the floor, although he won't invite himself to sit on the bed, so he stays where he is. "But I know she doesn't want you feeling so -- so bottled up to the point that you can't help but lash out. I think it'd help to talk about what happened with someone."

Harry moves his hands away from his face. He stares down at the bed and wraps his arms around himself, immediately telling Louis that he's pushing too hard and that Harry's uncomfortable. "Like a therapist?"

"Maybe. If you were up for it."

Harry shrugs jerkily. "My doctors wanted me to see one, too. They said that they 'strongly recommended and encouraged it' but, like. I don't even know where I'd start."

Louis' chest aches with sympathy. "Anywhere, H."

"I want to go to sleep," Harry murmurs suddenly. He shuffles around and gets himself under the covers, pulling them over his shoulders, and grabs Penny and brings her to his chest. She situates herself quickly, laying back down with her head pressed against Harry's chest. Harry still won't look at him, chooses to stare at the blank TV screen on his wall instead.

"Do you want me to leave?" Louis asks, feeling terribly stupid and insecure. 

Harry shakes his head, much to Louis' relief and surprise. That's good, Harry communicating what he wants. Anne's told him that Harry's gotten shaky with that again. He's still not used to the fact that after six years, someone will finally listen to him when he says yes or no. 

"Can we maybe, um." Harry sniffs quietly. "Could we watch another movie?"

Louis smiles softly. A movie, yeah. He can't screw up a movie. "Yeah. Of course we can." He checks the time on his phone; it's almost five. Nick should be calling soon. "Let me talk to your mom really quick, okay?" He stands on wobbly knees and brushes the back of his pants off. 

He finds Anne and Robin sitting at the kitchen table, speaking in hushed whispers. When Louis enters the kitchen, they fall silent, and Louis stands in the doorway awkwardly. 

"How is he, love?" Anne asks, giving him that same strained smile. Louis smiles back and shrugs. 

"His mind seems a bit all over the place right now, but I think he's as okay as we can expect." He leans against the door frame. "He, um. He seems somewhat open to getting a therapist."

Anne looks surprised. "Oh, really? He said that?"

Louis shakes his head. "No, but he didn't immediately shut down the idea, so I think there's some hope there."

"That's good." She looks to Robin and repeats, "That's good," to which he nods in agreement. 

"He wants to watch a movie," Louis says, "and I was just making sure that that's fine?"

Anne nods, looking relieved. "Of course it is. I'm glad he wants you to stick around. It breaks my heart knowing he's not letting himself be close to you again." Louis' face drops, guilt clutching at his heart, and Anne quickly shakes her head while standing up. "It's not your fault. Here," she walks to the fridge and takes out a plate of fruit out of the fridge and hands it to Louis. "He barely ate any of his lunch and I doubt he's going to want to eat dinner, either, so try and make him eat some of this, please."

Louis takes it and nods. He stares down at the plate for a minute before looking back up, an uneasy weight in his stomach. "Does he not eat often?"

"Sometimes he can't," she tells him, smiling sadly. "He'll gets so anxious that he can't keep anything down. Other times, he just forgets to eat." She sighs. "He doesn't have much of an appetite all lot of the time. I think his body forgot how to eat three meals a day. But if he's having a good day, he'll at least try and eat without me having to pester him into it. Today he wasn't feeling up for much, but I talked him into eating at least a little bit."

"Sounds rough," he says quietly. 

"We take it one day at a time," she says, reaching over to pat Louis on the shoulder. "That's all we can do."

Louis nods, agreeing with that. He's almost certain that any other pace would be too much for Harry. 

Louis decides on  _ Thor: Ragnarok _ , and the movie's watched in complete silence. Harry stays curled up with Penny on his side of the bed while Louis sits carefully on the other side. He's sure that him being in Harry's bed is at least weird, so he tries to keep his distance the best he can. Harry eats some fruit quietly throughout the film, although not nearly as much as someone who's barely eaten all day should. It makes Louis nervous; Harry's still skinny, maybe even  _ too _ skinny, and his naturally lanky frame does nothing to help. He just has to trust Anne to handle it. That's all he can do. 

When the movie ends, Louis shifts to see Harry sleeping. His face is pressed against Penny's soft back, his hand protecting her stomach. Louis' not exactly surprised; Harry was tired before, and he hasn't moved in at least twenty minutes. He carefully and quietly turns the TV off, pulls the blanket over Harry's feet because it's chilly in his room, and leaves. He doesn't shut the door, leaving it cracked open, and he practically tip toes down the stairs to make sure he doesn't wake him. 

Anne's sipping on a glass of wine downstairs and Louis quietly says goodbye. She thanks him and makes him promise to make an effort to come see Harry more, which irritates him slightly because he would've came  _ sooner _ if he knew for certain it was okay. Still, the invitation is sweet and makes Louis warm inside. He has nothing to do on Tuesdays now, anyway.

He has a missed call and a voicemail from Nick.

" _ Hey, Lou, _ " the message starts. As Louis listens, he pulls his car out of the driveway and starts driving. " _ I, uh. Sorry, I just -- I thought you said I could call you at this time. I'm not mad or anything, but I'm starting to miss you like a fucking limb _ ." Louis can practically hear him pouting. " _ I'm going out to dinner with some guys from work soon, and we'll probably be out late 'cause Jack's a drinker. I'll talk to you tomorrow though, yeah? And, um. Whenever you get this, could you just, like, shoot me a text to let me know you don't hate my guts for leaving you all the time? I'm feeling awfully guilty this time around, with the whole Harry situation. Uh, anyway. I gotta go. I love you, Louis. Bye _ ."

As soon as he gets home, Louis sends Nick a text to ease his guilt at least a little.  _ Not mad at you, sorry. I went over to see Harry for a bit -- still not doing great, like I told you last night. Sorry I missed your call :(( and i miss you too x  _

Nick texts him back while Louis' getting ready for bed.  _ poor harry :( let me know if there's anything I can do for either of you. _

_ I'm pretty sure he hates your guts _ , Louis doesn't say. Instead, he doesn't respond. He's too tired to fake happy right now. Harry makes him feel so fucking guilty, even when he doesn't mean to. Guilty for Nick, guilty for what happened to him, guilty for leaving him tonight without saying goodbye. And of course he knows Harry isn't trying to make him feel bad, which somehow makes him feel even worse. The worst part of it all, though, is feeling like he's betraying Nick somehow in all of this. 

The next day, Louis plans on stopping by and seeing Harry after work again, but Anne calls him just as he's leaving work to tell him that it's not a good idea. 

"He's really not doing good today, Louis," she says, voice hushed. "We woke up at four-thirty this morning to him _ screaming _ . He was still asleep, and he was thrashing around and sweating and just -- it was terrible. He was a mess when I finally got him to wake up, couldn't pick between if he wanted me to hold him or if he wanted me to leave. His heart was racing so fast, and he was crying and crying, and -- God. He didn't calm down completely until at least six, and then Robin had to leave for work, and he was a mess all over again." She sighs, drawn-out and loud. "Gem's over now, trying to get him to brighten up. He doesn't like that she's not living with us anymore, which doesn't even make  _ sense _ because they weren't even living together before any of this happened, he was living with you. I don't even think  _ he _ knows."

Louis closes his eyes as she talks, listening to her voice waver and thin at certain points. She's scared she's never going to get Harry back completely, he can tell. Once she stops talking, Louis clears his throat. "And you think me coming over will make it worse? I'm not -- it's okay, I'm just trying to figure out what's going on."

"He's very irritable right now," she says, "and he's really confused. He doesn't know what he wants. One second he's shouting at Gemma, and the next he's crying in her lap. So no, I don't think throwing you into the mix would do him any good."

Louis nods. "Okay. Tomorrow maybe. But has he gotten any calmer?"

"Not at all. He's an anxious mess, Louis. He keeps biting his nails, which he was doing before anyway, but he's made three of them bleed today. He's not -- " her voice catches, "I don't think it's, like. Self-harm or anything like that, because he came to me and let me clean his finger each time. I think it just soothes him to be able to focus solely on something, you know? I don't think -- I don't think he's doing that poorly."

"He promised you he wouldn't do anything to hurt himself," Louis reminds. "I don't think we have to worry about that. Hope not, at least."

She inhales shakily. "He's having cravings again. For -- for -- you know."  _ Heroin _ . She can't say it, can't admit her baby's a heroin addict. Louis doesn't blame her; it still hasn't quite sunk in yet for him either. "I think that's why he's being so grumpy. He said it's all he can think about."

God, this is too much. "At least he told you, you know? He's being honest, that's good."

"I suppose," she breathes out. "And -- " she cuts herself off suddenly, and then she's saying, "What's wrong, baby?" in a gentle, soothing tone. It must be Harry, he must be upset again. There's a muffled voice and then, "I'm just talking to a friend. Why're you crying, sweetheart?" More muffled talking. "Come here, baby. You're okay." Louis can hear him come closer, can hear his cries become less muffled and more clear until they're loud over the phone, meaning he's probably letting her physically comfort him. "I've got to go," Anne says after a moment. "Tomorrow, maybe." And then she hangs up, Harry's sobs being the last thing he hears. 

It's rattling, in a bone-deep, earth-shattering type of way. He's seen Harry cry hundreds of times, even since he's been back, but to hear it over the phone is somehow worse. He can't do anything about it, and he won't even get to know when Harry calms down. He just has to trust Anne to take care of it, which is easy to do because she's his mother, but it still seems unfair. He berates himself for that;  _ unfair? _ He doesn't know anything about unfairness. What's unfair is stepping out of the mall to call your mother and getting fucking captured for six years,  _ that's  _ unfair. Louis needs to stop sitting here feeling sorry for himself -- it's not about him. None of this is about him. 

The anger and self-hatred fizzles out quickly, leaving sadness and the echoes of Harry's cries in its absence. It's emotionally tolling to be even on the outside of this; he can't imagine how Anne must feel, let alone Harry.

He makes sure he's ready to answer Nick's call that night. They text occasionally throughout the day, when Nick can, but for the most part, their nightly calls are the only time they can really talk. He answers Nick's call on the first ring, long past the age of caring if he looks desperate or not. He is, anyway. Nick is stable and sturdy and that's exactly what Louis needs right now. 

Nick's tired, he can tell. His boss always runs him ragged when he's out of town; apparently, not even a month is long enough to fit everything in that Nick is in charge of doing, so they have to jam-pack his schedule as tight as possible. Today, Nick tells him, he had to work on repairing a damaged relationship with another company, because this said company is blowing up in the automobile industry and Nick's company needs to profit from their success somehow. It all sounds boring to Louis -- not even Nick is interested in cars, so imagine how  _ he _ feels -- although it's nice just hearing Nick's voice. 

After a little while of rambling on Nick's part, he finally turns the table and asks Louis how Harry's doing. It jolts him back to reality, immediately dampening his mood. Ellie is in his lap, and he focuses on scratching her head for a second before responding, and he tells Nick the truth. That Harry's doing shitty, and that Louis’ feeling unreasonably guilty, and that he's going a little crazy not being able to help in any way. Nick talks him down, of course he does, and he leaves Louis feeling a lot better and more hopeful about the whole thing. 

Since Sundays and Tuesdays are the only days Louis has off, he typically pushes every responsibility he has off until those days. He spends the day going grocery shopping, taking Moose to get his nails clipped, going to the bank and paying off a few bills before he decides he's done enough and that it's perfectly okay to avoid anything else until Tuesday. At five, he officially changes into his pajamas and cracks open a bottle of wine and settles in front of the TV, Moose next to him and Ellie on the coffee table in front of him. He drinks a glass or two before deciding that he's not in the mood to be alone all night, no matter how good of company his pets make. Niall's working and Liam's busy at his wife's doctor appointment (he wonders how hard it was to tell Harry that Liam's due to be a dad at the end of August), but Zayn isn't doing anything important, so he comes over. 

Of all the things grown men could do, they end up playing FIFA. It's not at all as entertaining as Louis used to think it was, but it keeps them occupied as they talk lazily about other things, like how Zayn's art career is finally taking off. He was an English teacher for about three years until he decided he absolutely hated it. At that time, the income he was getting from his art plus some savings and his boyfriend pitching in every once and a while was enough, so he quit, and now, he's finally getting the recognition he deserves. 

"How is that going then?" Louis asks. "The boyfriend thing, I mean."

"I've been dating Jake for almost four years. The boyfriend thing is fine."

Louis shrugs. "Fine. Then how is  _ just _ the boyfriend thing going."

Zayn pauses the game with a heavy sigh and turns to Louis. Louis drops his controller on his lap and shrugs again before reaching forward to take another sip of wine. Zayn chose beer, and Louis started before him, so Louis is slightly more buzzed than him. "Not all of us want to get married, you know. Me and Niall are both perfectly fine being bachelors."

"I'm just saying, man. It's been four years."

"Yeah, and me and him are both perfectly content where we are. You know, I should -- "

Before he can finish, the doorbell rings. Louis sighs; one, Zayn and him don't talk enough anymore, and two, he can't force Nick to answer the door. He stands with as little whining as he can manage, and goes to answer the door. 

It's Harry. Of course it's Harry. He's standing there, eyes rimmed red and hair a mess with his arms crossed and shoulders hunched. He's about to scold him for walking here again, but then he sees a frustrated Anne walking up behind him. 

"I told you to wait for me," she huffs, shaking her head. She turns to Louis and sighs. "I'm sorry, I tried calling but you weren't picking up and he wasn't being very patient." 

"My phone's charging, sorry," he tells her. Harry's staring straightforward, looking passed Louis' shoulder and into the kitchen. He looks fucking exhausted, eyes bloodshot with deep purple bags underneath. He probably didn't sleep last night. Couldn't, maybe. "Is everything all right?"

"He's having another rough day." She drops her voice like Harry's not standing right there. "He's been in a mood all day, I don't -- " she exhales loudly. "Anyway. He wanted to come over. I'm sorry. If you have plans or anything, I can take him back home."

Harry doesn't look like he can withstand being told no right now. He either wants Louis or just to be away from home, and Louis' not going to deny him of anything. Not with the way he looks seconds away from falling apart. "Zayn's over," he says slowly, and turns his attention to Harry. "Is that okay, H?"

Harry tenses and wipes hurriedly at his eyes with the bottom of his sleeve. As soon as he's done, his arm goes back to his middle, protecting himself. "That's fine," he whispers, glancing down. "I just wanted to see you." His voice cracks on the last word, and it absolutely shatters Louis' heart. 

"Okay, that's okay," Louis says gently. "I'm right here."

Harry nods quickly before he steps forward. He trips over his foot slightly, and both Anne and Louis start to try and catch him, even though he doesn't need any help. And then Harry's hugging Louis, a full-body, tight embrace that sends Louis stumbling back a few steps. Harry hunches down to tuck his head into Louis' neck and Louis just clings, not sure if it's okay to touch but doing it anyway because he physically could not stop himself if he tried. Over Harry's shoulder, Anne's staring at them with a hurt expression. 

"He misses you," she mouths to him once she sees him looking. Louis just nods and hugs him tighter, praying this doesn't end. 

It does, and quickly, and of course Harry's the one to break it, but it's okay because it happened. Harry still trusts him enough to touch, still will let himself be vulnerable with Louis. It means a fucking lot coming from a person as tortured as Harry. 

Harry wipes his eyes again quickly once he pulls away. Without a word or a glance, he steps to the side and goes to the living room, where they can hear Zayn say hello in a shocked voice. Anne smiles sadly at him. 

"He might be a lot to handle today," she warns, voice low. "For the most part of today, he's kept to himself and stayed quiet, but that's -- that just means he's feeling really scared, okay? And he's unpredictable when he's scared, so just. . . if anything happens, or if you feel too overwhelmed, call me and I'll come right over, okay?"

"Okay, I will," Louis agrees. "Has he eaten dinner yet?"

"He hasn't eaten all day," she whispers, shaking her head, "but I don't force him to on days like today. He's feeling extremely fragile right now, so do your best not to push him too much. He freaked out on me earlier when I had just asked a question." She smiles at him again. "I'll leave you to him now, okay, but don't be afraid to call me for anything."

"Of course," Louis says, nodding. 

"Alright, thank you. I'll see you tonight."

He waves at her before closing the door. He crosses the room to the kitchen to grab a water bottle from the fridge. He hesitates about grabbing a granola bar for Harry and ends up doing it anyway; he's not going to shove it down Harry's throat, he's just going to lightly suggest it. 

When he gets to the living room, Harry's sitting with his knees to his chest on the chair, leaving Zayn alone on the sofa. He's staring at the frozen game on the screen as his fingers obsessively play with the ends of his hair. It's long, six or seven inches passed his shoulders now. 

"Here," Louis murmurs quietly, setting the water bottle and granola bar on the table next to Harry. Harry nods at him wordlessly, though he doesn't make a move for either of them, and Louis awkwardly goes to the sofa and sits. It feels inappropriate playing a video game right now, but sitting in awkward silence is even worse. Thankfully, Zayn clears his throat. 

"You wanna play with us, H?" he asks, motioning to the TV. Harry shakes his head. "Okay, that's fine. Do you -- do you wanna watch? Or do you want to do something else?"

"I'll watch," Harry whispers. His fingers keep running through his hair, sometimes going so fast they create knots which Harry carelessly tugs free. He keeps his gaze locked on the TV, so Zayn hands Louis his controller and hits play. It feels weird at first, like he's neglecting Harry's needs, but after twenty minutes or so Louis notices that Harry looks content watching them. 

After about forty minutes of mindless playing, he notices Harry shifting around more than he was before. He ignores it at first, although he makes sure to keep Harry in his line of vision just in case. When he catches Harry sucking on the side of the tip of his finger, he presses pause on the game, earning the attention of them both. 

"Are you bleeding?" Louis asks, making sure to keep his tone even. Harry nods once, looking slightly confused, and Louis nods back. "Okay, come here. Let me just wash it really quick and put a band-aid on it."

Zayn eyes them both carefully as they stand, but Louis waves him off and goes to the bathroom, Harry following him. He doesn't make a big deal out of it as he rinses the blood from Harry's finger. It's evident he'd been chewing on it, and Louis kicks himself for not noticing him doing it. Still, it's not bleeding too badly, and Harry doesn't put up a fight when Louis wraps a band-aid around it (there's a matching one on his other hand, Louis notices). When he's finished, he clears his throat and pats awkwardly at Harry's hand. 

"Thanks," Harry murmurs, gaze averted. 

"No problem, H," he says. He's about to leave it at that, but because he can't help himself: "You should try and stop doing that, though."

"I know. Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, promise." He gives Harry a small smile and walks out of the bathroom. Harry follows him back to the living room, where Zayn is pulling on his shoes. Louis frowns. "You leaving?"

Zayn nods, looking guilty. "Shitty timing, I know, but Jake is fuckin' plastered at his friend's house and I need to pick him up." He sounds genuinely sorry, so Louis is confident that Zayn's not just ditching them because this situation is tense. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry shakes his head behind Louis, and Louis glares at him instinctively when he sees a different finger being gnawed on. Harry quickly takes it away from his mouth, and Louis softens his gaze apologetically. 

"It's fine," Harry says. 

Zayn looks relieved and nods. He kisses Louis on the cheek and taps Harry's elbow before leaving in a rush, and then it's just Harry and Louis standing in the doorway of the living room, neither of them knowing what to say. Louis' scared to upset him, Harry doesn't know how to fill the silence. 

Moose lifts his head up from where he's sitting on the couch, expecting Louis to come over and pet him. Louis thinks for a second before deciding what he and Harry could do. "Do you wanna sit outside with me while I play fetch with Moose?" All Harry does is nod. "Okay, cool. Come on, Moose. Let's go outside."

Moose, obedient as always, jumps off the couch and leads the way to the backdoor hurriedly. Louis and Harry follow silently. 

As Louis throws the ball back and forth for Moose while Harry sits with his legs to his chest again on a chair behind him, he aches to call Nick. He's probably going to miss their call again, and that fucking sucks, but he can't leave Harry alone to go talk to his fiancé, that's just cruel. Nick will understand, of course he will, it just feels really fucking shitty to be the one fucking up. Nick's typically the one to blame when things go shaky in their relationship, which Louis secretly loves because during his time with Harry -- sweet, selfless, kind Harry -- he was constantly accidentally causing disagreements. 

At the thought of their relationship, Louis sneaks a look back at Harry. He's watching a bird on the fenceline, expression blank. His fingers are curled into fists on his knees, probably in an attempt to stop biting at his nails. He looks nervous, somehow. Louis can't figure how he can tell, but he can. It takes another rushed glance to recognize that Harry's tensed, looking like he's bracing himself from a blow that's not going to come. 

Moose comes darting back towards Louis with the ball, breathing heavily. He drops the ball when Louis asks him to, and Louis picks it up and throws it for him again. Moose goes after it with just as much enthusiasm as he started with, his legs looking blurred as he goes. 

Moose is halfway back to Louis when a car door slams nearby. It's probably one of his neighbors, and he doesn't think twice about it until he hears a sharp intake of breath from behind him. He turns to see Harry looking at him, eyes wide and chest heaving. He looks scared out of his mind, his breaths getting shallower and shallower the longer Louis stares. 

"It was a car," Louis says hurriedly, ignoring Moose who's begging at his feet for him to throw the ball again. "H, it was just a car. You're okay."

Harry nods a few times too many, like he's trying to comprehend Louis' words but his brain won't accept that there's no danger. And then his face twists up, eyebrows furrowed, nose wrinkled, lips quivering and shoulders hunched, and he's crying. Louis' brain goes blank for a second, torn between knowing he has to get Harry to even out his breaths and wanting to make him stop crying, before he slowly approaches Harry, the former winning. Harry's chest is stuttering as he tries and fails to breath properly and his hands are shaking from where they're still balled up on his knees. Louis crouches down in front of him, making sure he doesn't touch. 

"You gotta breathe for me, H," he says quietly, not sure what else to do. This is a panic attack,  _ obviously _ , but he doesn't know how to help. Anne would probably gather him up and hold him to her chest like a baby, which doesn't help Louis at all, because he's not allowed to initiate touch yet. "Harry, love. I don't know what you need from me."

Harry takes a few shallow breaths before choking out, "Inside."

Immediately, Louis nods, grabbing Harry's arm and helping him up. He lets go as soon as Harry is on his feet, though he keeps a steadying hand on the small of his back as he guides him to the door. He holds it open for him and Harry goes inside, a sob clawing its way painfully up Harry's throat. He quickly leads him to the closest seat -- a chair at the dining table in the kitchen -- and Harry sits, face flushed. Louis crouches back down in front of him, and before he can say anything, Harry's trembling hands shoot out to clutch onto both of Louis' forearms. 

"Can't -- breathe," Harry cries. "Lou, I -- I can't, I -- "

"Shh, shh, don't talk," Louis whispers. Harry's clinging to him  _ hard _ ; there will be bruises there tomorrow if he keeps it up for long. "Just keeping trying. In and out, yeah?"

Harry actually listens, or tries to, but fails. Louis sits there, frantic and unsure of what to do. He's seconds away from caving and calling Anne when Harry's chest rises and falls at a reasonable pace for the first time in a while. His eyes are clenched shut, and it takes about another minute of a few shaky breaths for them to officially even out again. When they do, his eyes stay shut, tears leaking out steadily. 

"You did a good job," Louis says, reaching up to wipe Harry's tears with his thumbs. It makes him flinch slightly, but he lets it happen. Louis puts his hands back down, Harry's hands still clutching onto them painfully. "You did that all by yourself, H."

He doesn't say anything more. Doesn't do anything, either. He waits for Harry to make the first move, which is him slowly opening his eyes and removing his hands. Louis' arm aches from where Harry was holding them, but it doesn't even matter. Louis stands slowly, and Harry's eyes follow him. 

"Do you want to go lay down?" he asks. "We have a spare room, if you want."

Harry shakes his head and wipes his cheeks completely dry. "I have a headache," he mumbles, finally going back to looking everywhere that isn't Louis. 

"Do you -- can you have Ibuprofen?"

"Why wouldn't I be able to have Ibuprofen?" Harry snaps, defensive. He bites down harshly on his lip. 

Louis tries not to take Harry's random burst of anger personally; he's irritable, Anne told him, and he just had a panic attack, so he's uncomfortable and lashing out. It has nothing to do with Louis. 

He keeps his tone calm. "I didn't know if it'd clash with any of the medication you're already on, I'm sorry."

Harry sniffles and wipes at his cheek again. "I'm not on anything anymore. Just vitamins." He sounds sad again. Louis' having trouble keeping up with him right now. 

"Oh. Well, that's good, right?"

Harry shrugs, his arms wrapping themselves around his middle. "I -- " he pauses before starting again. "I'm sorry for freaking out." It's not what he was going to say, Louis can tell. He wants desperately to know what Harry's honestly thinking right now, but Anne specifically told him not to push so he won't. 

"It's fine, H. I'll go get you some Ibuprofen."

An hour later, they're baking brownies together. Louis saw the brownie mix in the cupboard while grabbing Harry his medicine and remembered the bit of pride that ran through Harry after he made the garlic bread. He brought it up to Harry about ten minutes later, when Harry was petting Ellie on the couch. It was worth a shot, and Harry agreed hesitantly. 

He mostly lets Louis do everything besides the mixing, which is fine. Louis can handle making brownies on his own, even when Harry spends too much time mixing in every ingredient and it takes them forty minutes to finally get the brownies in the oven. 

"Okay," Louis says, closing the oven door. "We just have to wait twenty-five minutes for them to bake."

Harry nods. He twirls the end of his hair with his fingers idly, staring at Moose who's just came to the kitchen to investigate. Louis pats Moose's head and looks back at Harry. "You ever think about cutting your hair?" Louis asks, strictly curious. "It's the longest I've ever seen it."

It seemed like an innocent enough question until Harry's eyes flick over to meet his in a glare. "I don't want it cut," he says, tone cold. 

The memory of seeing Harry walking around in the convenience store, head buzzed, slams against Louis' skull, demanding attention. Louis shouldn't have brought it up. 

"Okay, that's fine. Sorry for asking." He gives Harry a small smile and moves to put the dishes they dirtied into the sink for something to do. He hesitates for a second, unsure if he should say what he wants to, before deciding it's worth saying. "If you wanted to though," Louis offers, "I'd cut it for you."

Harry frowns. "You don't know how to cut hair." And then weaker, "Do you?"

"No," Louis laughs. "Definitely not. But I could try. Or your mom could try. I'm sure she'd be a lot better at it than me."

And he was right: it was worth saying, because there's a ghost of a smile on Harry's face as he shrugs and turns away, walking towards the living room. 

Louis turns on the last thirty minutes of  _ Thor: Ragnarok _ that Harry fell asleep during the last time as they eat their brownies. It feels oddly nice. It's just brownies and a movie that Louis' already seen, but it's still nice. He's not sure how long the peaceful moment will last, and he's not completely sure that Harry is at peace as well -- Anne said that a quiet Harry meant a scared Harry -- but he holds onto the odds that Harry's currently content. 

The movie ends, and over half the plate of brownies are gone. Louis is nervous that Harry eating nothing by brownies all day is going to give him a stomach ache, but Harry doesn't seem too concerned with that as he grabs another one. Better that than nothing, he guesses. 

As Harry eats and pets Moose some more, Louis finally checks his phone. As expected, there's a missed call from Nick. This time, there's no voice message, just a text that reads  _ Louuu baby :( miss & love you x _ . He feels so fucking bad about skipping out on Nick again, especially since it's going to get Nick feeling insecure that he's made the wrong decision about going to Australia. He makes sure Harry's distracted before texting back. 

_ hey, i'm sorry for missing our call again. harry came over out of the blue and it felt weird leaving him to talk to you. i promise everything's okay, i'm not mad at you or avoiding you or anything like that. i miss you so much, so do ellie and moose. love you too xxxxxxx _

A response comes only a few seconds after.  _ figured it was something with harry. he doing any better? _

  1. _he had a panic attack but we just made brownies so i don't know exactly_



_ ahh the poor guy. can't imagine what he's been through _ . Before Louis can respond, another text comes in.  _ can we Skype tomorrow or something? i really miss u.  _

_ of course. i'm free after work x _

He doesn't get a text back, meaning Nick had to put the phone down and go back to whatever he was doing. When he glances up, he sees Harry looking at him. 

"Are you texting Nick?" he asks, voice carefully stripped of any emotion. Louis tucks his phone into his pocket and nods. There's no point in denying it. 

"I was just saying goodnight, sorry."

He bites down on his lip and glances elsewhere, clearly trying to work up the courage to say something. Finally, he does. "I don't have a lot of pictures of us," he says slowly, picking nervously at his pants like a child would. "My phone's gone. The police, they -- "

"Lost it, I remember." 

Anne had been fucking  _ furious _ . Louis had been at first too, but later on he realized having Harry's phone or not having it didn't bring them anywhere closer to finding him. 

"Right." He sighs. "I have a few Polaroids at home of us, and a few other pictures my mom has on her phone, but, um." He shrugs stiffly. "Would you mind, um, maybe sending me some? Or, like. Showing me some. I, uh. It's okay if you don't want to. If you think it'll be weird, or -- "

"H," he interrupts, shaking his head. "It’s no problem. I'll show you some and you can pick the ones you want me to send you." He ignores the stinging in his eyes and the way his chest tightens because this isn't about him, this is about Harry. 

Louis comes over to him, making sure not to sit too close to Harry, and he makes Moose move a little so he isn't crowding Harry. Harry brings his knees to his chest and sets his head on his knees, watching intently as Louis goes to the untitled photo album that holds the majority of the pictures Louis has on his phone. As he clicks on it, Louis realizes that this doesn't have to be so intimate, that Louis could easily hand the phone to Harry and let him go through it on his own, or just send his favorites to Harry, but maybe this is about him too after all, because he wants to do this with Harry. 

The first picture is like a blow to the heart. They both look so much younger, which is a stupid thing to think considering they  _ were _ so much younger. They're out somewhere, Louis can't tell where, and it's the two of them flipping off the camera, Harry smiling wide and Louis pouting. He vaguely remembers sending it to someone, but he can't remember who or why. 

The next is even worse. It's a picture of them sound asleep and cuddled up on Harry's bed, Louis' arms wrapped tightly around Harry's middle with Harry's head resting on his chest. Anne took this and sent it to him; it'd been Christmas, the first Christmas Harry wasn't living at home, and both of them got a little too tipsy at Anne’s Christmas dinner to drive back to the apartment. It physically pains Louis to look at it. 

Harry makes a noise close to a whimper next to him. "I want that one," he whispers, sounding ashamed. Louis nods, too scared to talk around the lump in his throat and stars it to make sure he remembers to send it to him later. He flicks to the next picture.

This one was obviously taken early in the morning, because they both look exhausted and kind of gross, the morning light doing nothing to help. Neither of them are wearing shirts. Harry's the one taking the picture, a lazy grin on his face as they both give a thumbs up to the camera. He can't figure out why they'd take a picture like this, so random and odd. Everything seems so trivial now.

The next picture is another Christmas one. The two of them are wearing Santa hats and matching Christmas pajamas, holding up presents to the camera. Louis remembers being beyond frustrated with trying to get the timer to work so they could show the presents -- the ones they were holding were from Louis' mom -- but his smile doesn't show that. Harry nods and Louis stars that one, too. 

There's a few in a row of pictures of Harry doing random things, like eating a banana and riding a bike and petting a dog. The next is Louis, Harry, Lottie and Gemma all drinking out of big mugs. Harry asks him to star it; Louis does. 

They go through all one hundred and forty eight pictures Louis has in that album. In the end, he sends Harry about forty of them, and Harry's eyes are glossy with tears. Louis doesn't mention it; he's halfway there himself, too. For some reason, the funny, tongues-out-and-middle-fingers-up pictures are what sticks to the back of Louis' eyelids whenever he closes his eyes rather than the pictures where they're all loved up and holding each other. 

"Could you tell my mom to come pick me up?" Harry asks, voice small. "I left my phone at home."

Louis' heart clenches. "Of course. Of course, yeah, but did I -- did I do something wrong?"

"No. No. I'm just," Louis knows what he's going to say before he says it, "tired. I'm just tired."

"Alright," he relents, clicking his phone back on. He's met with his lockscreen photo of Nick with his arm around Jay's shoulder, both looking bright and happy. It'd been taken on Daisy's last birthday, where Nick got her Polaroid camera and a gift card to the shopping mall even though Louis told him multiple times that he didn't need to get her anything. Harry's looking at it, and it must feel like a harsher slap in the face to him than it does to Louis, so he quickly types in his password and it goes away, only to be met with his homescreen's picture, which is another picture of Nick, this time one of him sleeping with Ellie on his chest and Moose tucked into his side. His fingers can't move fast enough to hide it. 

_ He's ready to come home, _ is all he says to Anne; he would add a little bit of an update if Harry wasn't watching carefully what he was doing. He presses send, and Anne replies a minute later telling him she's on her way. 

It's quiet, and for a moment, Louis thinks Harry's going to pretend like he didn't see those pictures of Nick, but he unfortunately doesn't. "Why did you get engaged so fast?" is his question, and it's not what Louis was expecting at all, so he has no time to come up with a well-crafted response. He decides the truth is the best way to go right now. 

"Because you and I went so slow, did everything so carefully, and it still managed to get messed up." Now he's the one avoiding eye contact as he refuses to look anywhere but the black screen on his screen. "And I really love him."

Harry nods slowly. "Mom and Robin got married really quickly, too. I hated it at first, but now. . . I guess I wouldn't change anything that happened with them."

It feels weird. Like acceptance, almost. Like Harry is giving Louis his blessing or something. Louis doesn't know why that makes him sad.

They sit in somewhat stilted silence until Anne comes and knocks on the door. Louis stands and Moose jumps off the couch and goes towards the door. Harry's hand darts and grabs his arm in the same place he was crushing earlier, and it stings slightly. When Louis looks to him, Harry's hand immediately disappears back to his lap. 

"I miss your family," he says, eyes wide and cheeks red. "I, um. Your mom came and saw me once a few months ago, and Lottie stopped by a little while ago, but, like. What about everyone else?" He looks incredibly sad, and it adds another hundred pounds of guilt to Louis' shoulders. 

"I told them to give you time," he admits. He runs a hand over his face and sighs heavily. "I didn't realize, I -- I should've made sure that's what you wanted. I'm sorry."

Harry looks down. "So they want to see me?"

"They're your family too. Of course they do."

He knows it's not time to mention the fact that Louis' family has grown by two since Harry's been around, that there's two little siblings of Louis' running around that Harry hasn't met yet. And it'll be fucking weird and overwhelming to see how much Phoebe and Daisy have grown, because it was difficult for Louis to witness and he saw them every other week for the last six years. 

Anne knocks again. This time, Harry stands. He grabs the plate of brownies and takes them with him, not even shooting a questioning glance to Louis. It makes Louis laugh softly. 

Anne kisses Harry's face all over as soon as she sees him, and Harry doesn't squirm away. She takes the brownies from Harry and Harry goes back to protecting himself and she says goodbye for them both. Louis watches them get into the car and drive away. He even stands there for a little bit afterwards, for a reason he can't quite work out. 

He spends a solid three minutes that night debating with himself if it's wrong or not if he changes his lockscreen, and in the end, a picture of Moose wearing Mickey Mouse sunglasses replaces the old one. Louis doesn't know what it means. 

The next day, he's consumed with guilt all fucking day. When he Skype's Nick, Nick is all smiles and _ I love you _ 's and  _ I miss you _ 's and Louis' heart is rabbiting in his chest with panic that Nick's going to think he's some terrible person for changing his stupid fucking lockscreen photo. After about ten minutes, Louis caves and sheepishly shows him the new picture, asks him what he thinks. Nick just grins, wide enough to make the laptop look small.

"I like the one with him in that hat better," he says, grabbing his own phone and sliding through his gallery. After a moment, he turns it around to show Louis the picture of Moose wearing a pink bonnet with flowers on it, eyes wide in confusion. Louis laughs, the guilt tumbling down, and Nick changes his lockscreen to Moose, too. 

"Poor Ellie is going to feel left out," Louis pouts. Nick laughs and relents, changing it again to a picture of Moose and Ellie curled up together on their bed. 

They have slightly awkward Skype-sex, because even after all this time they've never quite perfected how to do it just right. Nick's anxious about being loud because he's in a hotel room, Louis' anxious about wanking on camera like a porn star, but in the end, they both come and exchange lazy smiles with one another. 

"You look tired," Nick murmurs, grabbing the dirtied tissue from his chest and tossing it off camera. "You should take a nap."

Louis shrugs. He _ is  _ pretty tired, but Nick looks exhausted too, and he's not signing off until Nick absolutely has to go. They spend about fifteen more minutes together, five of which are spent on Nick shuffling around the room getting dressed for a meeting and only catching half of Louis' sentences. 

Phoebe and Daisy are fifteen, meaning they were nine when Harry went missing. They remember Harry and they're familiar with what happened, although Jay and Louis have kept the story as vague as possible. All they really know is that Harry was kidnapped by bad people and put in a very bad situation.

Fizzy is slightly irritated with Louis that he gave Lottie the okay weeks ago to see Harry and not her, but Louis tells her sternly that she needs to cut the attitude because he's stressed enough as it is. 

"Maybe all three of them shouldn't go at once," Jay suggests, petting at Louis' hair from behind him. She's doting on him, and that means she's worried about him. 

"I don't really want to go by myself," Daisy murmurs, looking embarrassed. 

"Me neither," Phoebe agrees quickly. "Mom said he was all, like. Sick."

Jay sighs, her hand stilling on Louis' head. "I seen him a week after he got back home from the hospital, loves. He's looking a lot better now. And he asked to see you, so maybe you should be a little more grateful that he's okay and stop putting your wants before his needs."

Lottie, who's barely interested in this conversation because she's not coming, pokes her out from behind the fridge and nods. "I saw him a little more than a month ago, and he looked okay. You just need to talk slow, and about the things he's somewhat familiar with."

"Yeah, and I'll be there. So will Anne," Louis adds. That's so many people in one room, all focused on Harry, and he knows it'll be a challenge for Harry to handle it all. 

Jay squeezes his shoulder. "Don't you work, love? Tomorrow's Tuesday."

"I don't work Tuesdays anymore."

"Since when?"

_ Since I impulsively took it off because there was a possibility it'd help Harry.  _ "Uh, I just got sick of working so much."

Lottie scoffs and shuts the fridge, a peach yogurt in hand. "What he means to say is that he's finally warming up to the fact that he doesn't have to work a day in his life if he doesn't want to."

Louis scowls at her. "Nick's not _ that _ rich."

Lottie throws the lid of his yogurt at him, but it falls short and ends up getting yogurt on the floor. Their mum must glare at her, because she picks it up without being asked to and cleans up the mess. "You live in a house with three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, a privacy fence, and a huge backyard. I'm pretty sure he's  _ 'that' _ rich."

It's true, although they use the third bedroom as Nick's office instead of a bedroom. Louis doesn't like feeling like he needs Nick's money, but maybe he kind of does. He certainly doesn't pay for half the bills, that's for sure. He'd be up to his ass in debt if he did. And it's not like their house is a mansion, or anything even close to that. It's just. . . nice. 

"That's why I'm marrying rich," Fizzy mutters, and Louis kicks at her under the table. 

"His  _ parents _ are rich, okay, he's just well-off." He sighs and shakes his head at them. They always, always bring up Nick's money. It makes him feel like he set a bad example or something, which is stupid, because he had no way of knowing how much money Nick had in his bank account when they first started dating. 

Suddenly, Louis realizes how off-topic they've gotten. "I'm here to talk about  _ Harry _ , in case you guys forgot."

"Right," Daisy mumbles. She doesn't look all too eager. "What are we supposed to talk about?"

Louis thinks for a second before shrugging. "School, but not college. Um, maybe your friends? Don't talk too much about Doris or Ernie. And um, Phoebe, I guess you can talk about that snot-nosed kid Johnny."

She gasps. "Johnny is my  _ boyfriend _ , Louis, you can't just -- "

He stops her with a wave of his hand. "I'm your brother and also over ten years older, I  _ can _ 'just'." He smiles at her kindly and briefly to let her know he's only joking. "Talk about your school dances. He'd like that, I think."

Jay takes a seat behind next to him and reaches for his hand and squeezes. "I was thinking about putting together a photo album of all the things he missed while he was away. Pictures of birthdays and Christmases and Halloweens. Baby pictures of Doris and Ernie, the twins at their first dance. You know, stuff like that." She takes a sip from her tea. "If he liked you showing him those pictures of the two of you, I think he could like that."

Louis feels inexplicably emotional about that. Giving Harry a collection of bits and pieces of what he missed out on is exactly what he needs; he's always going on about how sad he is that's out of the loop on so many things, and this'll be a way to soothe that. 

He nods hurriedly. "That'd be good, I think. Could you maybe get a few together for him tonight? I could help."

She smiles warmly at him and nods. Daisy and Phoebe offer to help as well. Lottie has to go back home to her apartment and Fizzy has plans with a friend, so it's just them four for the night.

Their night consists of printing out too many pictures, running to the store for more colored ink and a photo album, everyone criticizing Louis' cutting skills, and them remembering what had gone on the day the pictures were taken. Doris and Ernie want to help, but they're too little and don't listen to instructions very well so Louis gives them the chore of flipping the page of the photo album whenever they need it, which still somehow takes them more focus than what should be required. In the end, they have a photo album filled with pictures of Louis' family -- of  _ their _ family, Harry's always, always been a part of his family. Nick appears in two or three of them, but only because the pictures were too good to keep out and he couldn't be cropped out of the photo. Louis is pretty sure Harry won't mind. To make up for it in case he does mind, though, Louis makes sure the last picture of the photo album is of Penny. 

"Phoebe, Daisy, make sure you remember what we talked about," Louis murmurs quietly, standing in front of them on the Styles' front porch. Fizzy had knocked a moment ago, and Anne has yet to answer, which makes Louis beyond paranoid that they've stressed Harry out and having a panic attack or something. 

Daisy huffs. "Lou, we've known him forever. I'm pretty sure we know how to talk to him."

"It's different now," he starts, but then the door is swinging open and a nervous looking Anne is greeting the girls with a short hug each. 

"He's alright," Anne says, before Louis has to ask how Harry's doing. "Anxious as ever, but he's excited too, I think." 

Phoebe smiles brightly at her. The girls love Anne as much as Louis does. "We're excited, too."

She opens the door and invites them in, Louis going first while the other three follow after him, the photo album held safely in Fizzy's hands. Unexpectedly, Harry is sitting on the couch when they get in. Louis thought for sure he'd be hiding away in his bedroom and they'd have to coax him downstairs. Maybe Louis' underestimating him. He's sitting with his legs criss-crossed, Penny tucked away safely in his lap. His chewing on his thumb, but when he sees Louis, he immediately stops. 

"Hey, Haz," Louis greets, giving him a reassuring smile. Daisy and Phoebe linger shyly around him while Fizzy almost instantly says hello to him, smiling wide. He responds to her with a small smile, and nobody says something for a moment before Louis clears his throat. "Can the girls see Penny, H?"

Maybe it's not a smart idea, forcing Harry to share his security blanket, but it's the only thing Louis can think of that will break the ice. Everyone loves cats. 

Harry nods and shifts around as he picks Penny up as sets her down softly next to him. She's gotten bigger since Louis' seen her last, and Fizzy coos quietly and goes over to greet Penny, who mewls at her. Louis comes over too, although he sits next between Harry and the cat so there's some sort of comfortable barrier between Harry and the girls. He'd like to think that Harry trusts him again, and that's kind of confirmed when Harry places his hand on Louis' forearm and squeezes. 

"The twins have grown so much," Harry whispers, voice so low only Louis can hear. Louis nods, glancing at them. They're now crouching down in front of Penny, petting her and laughing quietly together. Penny keeps meowing quietly, as if she's talking to them. Fizzy catches his eye and motions to the album, and Louis nods at her. 

"Harry, um," she starts nervously, standing up off the couch and walking in front of Harry. Harry's grip strengthens; Louis pats lightly at his hand, a silent  _ it's okay _ , and Harry moves to grab Louis' hand, the one closest to him. He intertwines their fingers, squeezing almost painfully hard, but it doesn't matter because Louis' heart is so happy right now, it could burst. He finds Anne, who's smiling wide at the two of them. 

Not once does Louis think of Nick. 

"We made -- well, Louis and the twins and our mom made you this." She extends it to him, and he accepts it with his free hand. "It's a photo album. Of, like. Things that you missed. When you were, um. Like, away."

"Ernst and Doris helped," Daisy adds, smiling. Her smile quickly drops, probably remembering that Louis told them to try and not talk about the littlest twins, but Harry doesn't seem to care. Jay must've told him about them last time she visited. 

"Um, thank you guys," Harry says, quiet. He's still strangling Louis' hand. Louis still doesn't care. "That's really nice of you."

He looks like he maybe doesn't want to look at it in front of all of them, so Louis takes it from him and tucks it between them. He looks up at the TV to see  _ Friends _ playing. 

Louis squeezes his hand. "Is this the episode where Joey meets his hand twin?"

He honestly has no idea what episode it is -- he hasn't really sat through a whole episode of  _ Friends _ since him and Harry lived together -- and the episode where one of the characters think they've found themselves a hand twin that's going to earn them millions is the only one Louis can seem to remember right now. 

Harry huffs out a nervous laugh. "No. It's the one where Rachel hires a male babysitter and Ross doesn't like it."

"Oh," Louis replies. It rings a distant bell in his head, though he could just be going along with it for the sake of Harry, he's not sure. 

Phoebe sits up excitedly. "Did you hear that they're thinking about making new episodes with the original cast?"

Louis winces, unsure how Harry's going to react to that. Calmly, he figures out quickly, because Harry simply replies softly with a, "No, I didn't. That'd be nice, I think." And then Phoebe and him have a somewhat one-sided conversation about which character is their favorite and why and if they think Ross and Rachel are good for each other or not, and about five minutes later, Phoebe's ranting about how Joey should've found someone before the show ended and Louis decides that enough is enough. Even if Harry's not feeling overwhelmed by it, Louis kind of is, so he gently directs the conversation into something more well-known between them all.

As Fizzy tells Harry about college, and her job, and Lottie's career in fashion, Louis becomes completely distracted by the weight of Harry's hand in his. It's nice, and it's familiar, and Harry's skin is warm. Eventually, their hands turn clammy and neither of them move, not even to wipe away the sweat briefly before grabbing the other's hand again. Neither of them are willing to let go, even for a second. 

When the girls say their goodbyes and go to the car, Louis stays back for a moment to make sure everything went alright, hand still gripped tightly in Harry's. 

"Was today good?" Louis asks, smiling hopefully. Harry nods. 

"Phoebe talks a lot," he says, although he doesn't sound annoyed by it. "When they were younger, I always thought Daisy would be the more outgoing one."

Louis shrugs. "They're still young enough for that to change around again." It's meant to give Harry some relief in knowing that there's still a lot of milestones of their lives that Harry hasn't and won't miss. Six years is a long time, but it's not eternity. 

Harry smiles at him, small and gentle. He wants to pull away from Louis, Louis can just tell, so Louis lets go and grabs Penny for Harry, setting her back on Harry's lap. Instantly, Harry's hands are on her, petting her head and scratching her chin. Louis silently hopes that she's going to be one of those cats who live for twenty-plus years, for Harry's sake.

He leaves shortly after, giving Harry a small smile and reciprocating Anne's tight hug. Phoebe and Daisy go on talking about anything and everything in the backseat like they haven't just seen someone for the first time in six years, but Fizzy actually feels the weight of it, staying mostly silent as they drive back to Jay's house. 

That night, a few hours after getting home, Harry texts him to say thank you for the photo album. _ I didn't realize you guys still had birthday parties for me when I was gone _ , he sent. Anne probably told him that herself, because they tried their best to make that not obvious with the pictures they chose. Louis hated celebrating Harry's birthday -- it didn't feel like much of a celebration when they didn't even know for sure if he was one year older, or if he was dead -- but Anne needed to, so he always came. It's probably weird for Harry to hear about it now, but Anne needed it. She needed to believe her baby wasn't getting forgotten about, even if he already was pretty much dead to the police and the rest of the neighborhood who were sick of seeing his missing poster hanging around everywhere. 


	2. chapter two

When Nick finally, finally comes home from Australia, Moose jumps up all over him and Louis cries a little and so does Nick and they have really, really good reunion sex.

Nick always brings Louis a few gifts from wherever he was off to, and it never fails to make Louis feel spoiled. He gets Tim Tams, Yarra Valley Wine, a stuffed koala bear, and a weird, bulky boomerang thing that Nick bought from the airport gift shop because he "thought it was kinda cool, but I'm also sleep deprived, so ask me how I feel about it in the morning."

Louis works the next day, which he can tell Nick is a little irritated about. He probably could've got the day off, but he feels like he's been too needy as an employee this last year and he didn't want to risk it.

When he gets home at four-thirty, Nick is _ still  _ sleeping, and Louis laughs quietly and crawls into bed next to him, nudging Ellie out of the way so he can get comfortable. 

Everything's fine between them for a while. Nick goes back to work at the office the next week, and they take Moose out for a walk every night together, and they get pizza on Friday's, and go on a date every once in a while. Wedding plans are put at a bit of a stand-still, and Louis isn't sure if it's his fault or Nick's, so he doesn't really mention it. 

Harry comes by at least twice a week still, although he's more quiet when Nick is around, a little closed-off and skittish, even when Nick leaves them be instead of joining in with whatever they're doing. Most of the time, they just watch a movie or cook. Harry's also taken a liking to doing puzzles, of all things, so he'll come over with a puzzle and him and Louis will sit there for hours at a time and work on it together. It's kind of mind-numbing for Louis, and it's extremely frustrating at times, so he'll turn on music or they'll have a show on in the background, that way he can focus on something else at the same time. 

The first time Nick shows any negative feelings about Harry is a month and a half after he's been back from Australia. They're getting ready for a fancy dinner with two of Nick's coworkers, and Louis stops doing his hair for a moment to text Harry back, and Nick glares at him in the mirror. 

"If you're texting Harry again, I swear to God. . ." he mutters, shaking his head.

Louis frowns, confused. 

"What do you mean?" he asks, setting his phone down. Nick's never, ever put Louis under the impression that he's anything but happy about Harry's presence in Louis' life again, but Nick's looking at him like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

"We're going out on a double-date in fifteen minutes," he says, putting more gel into his hair, "and that's, like, the fifth time since I've been in here that you've stopped to text him back. What, does he want to come with us or something?"

"Nick," Louis warns sharply, and Nick scoffs, shrugging dramatically. 

"I wouldn't put it past the kid," he grumbles. He messes with his hair a bit more before leaning down to wash his hands. 

Louis can feel his face flush with anger. "He's not a fucking kid, don't degrade him like that. And I wouldn't call going out with your coworkers that you can't stand for dinner a  _ date _ ."

Nick shakes his head and dries his hands off. After sighing loudly, he looks to Louis and says, "What would you call a date, then? Me showing up to your house with a fucking  _ puzzle  _ so we can put it together while watching a movie you've already seen a hundred times? Do you want us to make cupcakes, or something?"

Louis has always, always been wildly protective over Harry. He was practically born to be Harry's protector, with Jay and Anne being so close and Louis being two years older. Harry was always quiet and overly emotional as a kid, and Louis always stuck around him at the playground and ate lunch with him when he could. When they were teenagers and in the same high school, Louis scooped Harry into his friend group as soon as he went into his freshmen year. Harry didn't need it by then, because he had grown out of his quiet phase long ago and became this social butterfly, but Louis always made it known that he was welcome regardless. When they started dating, the desire to protect Harry from everything bad in the world grew immensely, especially with how trusting and social Harry was. And now, with Harry being back after being gone for so long, Louis' pretty sure he's as loyal and protective over Harry as a dog, and he doesn't even care. Harry's been hurt for far too long, and Louis will protect him with every bone in his body, even if that means shielding Harry from his own fiancé. 

"Don't talk about him like that," Louis seethes. "He's trying his best to get back to where he was before, and if it means that I sit at our kitchen table and do a million stupid puzzles with him, or do something as simple as take his mind off of things for an hour as we bake fucking cookies, then so be it. And if you have a problem with that, you  _ talk _ to me about it like the grown adult you are, and we can figure out a way for you to accept it, because it's not changing."

He's made his point, and he can't sit here and stare at Nick waffling for a response for another second, so he grabs his phone and leaves the bathroom. He ends up just going to the bathroom downstairs, because he has to finish doing his hair, and as much as he wants to send his point home by refusing to go with Nick tonight, he knows he'll just feel guilty about it later. Nick's job is important to him, to them both, and he's not going to let a fight get in the way of that. 

Still, Louis can't help it when it's eyes water with frustration and hurt as he combs his fringe with his fingers. Him and Nick rarely ever fight, so when they do, it makes him feel stupidly insecure and personally attacked. And for Nick to be upset about Harry, of all things. . . it makes Louis feel like it's never going to get better, that Nick's going to force him to pick between them, between his best friend and his fiancé, and Louis' pretty sure he couldn't take losing either of them. He also can't stand the fact that Nick's probably been feeling this way for a long time and Louis' been too stupid to realize it.

Harry  _ needs  _ Louis, though. Louis' been one of four people that Harry has wholeheartedly accepted into his circle of trust, and Louis can't abuse that. 

His focus flicks back to when Harry held his hand, and when Louis didn't do anything about it. It's not cheating, it's not even close to it, but Louis' not blinded enough to understand that it might've crossed a line.

He's got his fringe in order and the tears gone by the time Nick comes and finds him. He stands by the bathroom doorway for a moment, clearly torn at what to say. Louis doesn't even know what he wants to hear. An apology might not be enough; he doesn't want Nick apologizing for something if he's not actually sorry about it. 

"I'm sorry," Nick says, and he sounds like he genuinely means it. "I'm just -- stressed. Which isn't a good enough excuse." When Louis doesn't respond and continues to poke and prod at his fringe even though it's fine, Nick continues. "I don't mind him coming over, or texting you so often. I promise I don't. I've -- it's just been a little weird, okay, coming home from Australia to see you two so close again."

Louis chews on his bottom lip before relenting. "Yeah. Okay."

"No, Lou, it's not okay," Nick says. He comes over and kisses Louis' forehead and takes his hands away from his hair to hold them. "I really am sorry. And I know you'd never, like, cheat on me. I know that."

"You better."

"I do," Nick soothes, "I do."

He wraps Louis in a tight hug, mumbling another apology into the top of his head. Louis hugs back, because he can't stay mad at Nick for this; it feels unreasonable. He shoved Harry into Nicks' life without asking if there was any room, and he understands that now. Nick's been so kind to Harry so far, a few jabs said out of insecurity and anger can be forgiven, so long as that aren't repeated. 

They go to dinner, and it's so, so boring Louis' pretty sure he could  _ cry _ . Pam and Terry like golf and cars and their poodle named Lola, and it's about the only things they'll talk about. Louis struggles to keep up, but Nick does it flawlessly, which always leaves a weird taste in Louis' mouth. 

When they get home, they immediately crawl into bed. Louis feels too brain dead to do anything other than watch crummy television, which is interrupted by Nick's constant chatter. He tunes out most of it, but when Nick apologizes again for earlier, Louis turns over to look at him and gives him a small smile. 

"It's okay, promise." 

Nick looks relieved. "Good." He stays quiet for a moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, before he finally says what he's obviously thinking. "In the beginning of our relationship, I was pretty sure you wouldn't love me more than him. I thought it was impossible, and I accepted it. I moved on from it. But you made me feel secure in the fact that maybe that wasn't true, and now, I -- " he smiles sadly and shrugs, "now I'm beginning to feel like maybe I was right. And I'm not, like, blaming you for that at all, but I just -- I don't know."

Louis sits up, throat tight and stomach heavy with dread. "Nick. . ."

"I'm going to South Africa in two weeks," Nick whispers, voice strained, "and I'm absolutely terrified you aren't going to be mine when I get back."

"Nick, God, stop it," Louis pleas, grabbing his face. Nick look so, so defeated, and Louis can't possibly understand how this all bottled up under his nose. "I love you so much."

"I know that," he says. His eyes are shining with tears, and he grabs one of Louis' hands in his own. "But you've loved him for your entire life. I can't compete with that."

"You don't have to, I swear. I'm in love with _ you _ , I'm marrying  _ you _ , I'm -- Jesus Christ, Nick. Please, please believe me. You have nothing to worry about with him. I care about him a lot, but not in the way I care about. Not anymore."

Nick doesn't look too entirely convinced, and it physically pains Louis. He starts fussing with Louis' fingers the way that he does when he's anxious, and Louis doesn't know what to do. 

Belatedly, something Nick said finally registers in Louis' brain. "You're going to South Africa?" 

Nick nods. He blinks, and it unsettles a tear. It falls, and Louis brushes it away immediately. Nick doesn't fucking cry, not about anything. "For forty days," he tells him. 

"Nick." He shuts his eyes and sets his head against Nick's. Louis can handle it, he can -- Nick went away to Japan for two whole months in the first year of their relationship -- he just really, really doesn't want to, especially with how Nick's feeling. And he just got back from Australia; surely there is someone else who can go? Someone who doesn't have a fiancé?

"Promise me I'll have a fiancé when I get back," Nick whispers, voice trembling. "Promise me that. I won't go if you can't. I'm pretty sure I'll lose my job, but I don't care. Going to Australia was a mistake. I don't want this to be a mistake too."

"I promise you, Nick. It won't be a mistake. Me, Moose and Ellie will be waiting for you when you get back, like always."

Nick wraps his arms around Louis, hard. Louis sloppily maneuvers himself on Nick's lap, so he can hug Nick back with as much force and love.

That night, he can't fall asleep. How could he? Nick threw that on him out of nowhere; Louis didn't have any idea that he was feeling insecure in their relationship. A part of Louis wants to fiercely protect the friendship he and Harry have so carefully crafted, but the other part can't quite work out if it's worth losing Nick over. Because losing Nick would mean losing his future husband, his future life they'd create together, the house. Maybe even Moose and Ellie. He can't possibly think Harry is worth losing all of that, but maybe he does. 

At two in the morning, Louis is still wide awake, heart bleeding worry. He rolls over on his side, careful not to wake Nick or Moose, who joined them not too long ago, and reaches for his phone. Of course there's a text waiting for him from Harry. 

1:38 pm.  _ You awake? I had a really bad dream. _

He shouldn't answer it, he knows he shouldn't. It's a douche move, texting the one person that's ever made Nick feel unsafe while he's sleeping right next to him, in their bed. But Harry reached out to him, and Louis' not able to ignore that. 

_ im up,  _ Louis texts. _ you okay? _

_ Yeah. I'm okay now. Calmed myself down. Sorry. _

Over the last few months, Harry's gotten better at calming himself down from smaller stuff like nightmares, instead of going directly to Anne. It's good; Harry's gaining bits and pieces of his independence back, no matter how small. Anne told him she's pretty sure that's why he comes over Louis' so often, to be more independent from her. He still can't quite bring himself down from panic attacks, and none of them have any clue on how to soothe Harry's constant paranoia -- Louis' pretty sure that's just a part of him now -- but it's okay. Nobody's asking him for anything more than he can give. 

_ don't apologize. try and go back to sleep tho _

_ Ok _

He doesn't get another text, so he figures Harry was successful in his attempt to go back to sleep. Louis, on the other hand, doesn't fall asleep until four, only to be woken an hour later by Nick's alarm. Any other morning, he would've kicked Nick in the shins until he got out of bed and stopped making noise, but this morning, Louis rolls over and gives him an over-enthusiastic blow job. 

When he gets home from running errands the following day, he doesn't have the energy to deal with Moose's semi-chaotic personality, so he puts him outside with his favorite chew toy and plops on the couch. Today dragged on and on and on, and Nick texted him a long-winded apology during lunch, saying he doesn't know exactly where that all came from, and that he thinks Harry's a wonderful person, along with reassuring Louis that he's still one-hundred percent in this relationship and that he trusts him and loves him like nobody else. It helps ease the guilt in his gut, although not by much. 

Needless to say, when Anne texts him around five to ask if it was alright if Harry came over, he says no. 

All he wants to do is sleep and spend his evening mending his unknowingly torn relationship with his incredible fiancé, and inviting over the person who kind of starting the whole problem would definitely not be a great idea. And besides, he's exhausted and sad. There's no way he wouldn't snap at Harry over something, and his heart can't handle doing that to anyone right now, but especially him.

He mostly mopes around feeling stupid and guilty until Nick comes home. He gives Louis a warm smile as Louis greets him. He pats Moose and gives Louis a kiss before wandering off to the living room to find Ellie. Louis follows -- he was watching _ American Horror Story _ in the living room anyway -- and Nick gives him a little frown when he sits down. 

Nick sits down next to him, Ellie in his arms He sets her down in between them and sighs. "Harry's not here," he observes. 

Louis glances at him, confused. "Uh, no. He's not."

"He always comes here Tuesdays and Sundays."

"Yes, he usually does."

Nick doesn't say anything for a long moment. Finally, he says, "Please tell me you didn't tell him not to come because of me." When Louis doesn't respond, Nick sighs again. "Babe, that's -- that's not what I meant. At all."

Louis scoffs, looking to him. He doesn't mean to be so defensive, but  _ fuck _ . "What did you mean then? 'Cause last night, you sounded pretty fucking sure I was going to fuck over everything we have for him, so don't be mad at me for assuming that that means you don't want him around."

"I don't know why I said all that stuff," Nick mumbles. "I'm sorry."

Tears stupidly burn Louis' eyes. "Don't be sorry if that's how you actually feel. I didn't mean for you to feel so shitty."

"I don't, I promise." Nick comes closer and wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side. He's warm and smells nice, so it's easy to melt into him. "Don't stop being friends with him because of me. I don't want to be that guy who doesn't let their partner have friends."

"You aren't that guy, even if you do have a problem with Harry."

Nick groans, shaking his head. "I don't, Lou. I seriously don't. He's -- nice, I guess. Well, I assume, I don't know, he never really talks to me. But he makes you happy." Quietly, Nick murmurs, "I just want you to be happy."

"I'm more than happy with you."

Nick pulls him even closer, and Louis rests his head on his shoulder. "Good. I'm glad. But seriously, I don't want you to break his heart by not having him over. He likes his routines, doesn't he?"

Louis nods hesitantly. 

"Then don't punish him for something I said. Please."

Louis doesn't respond, and Nick drops it. He doesn't ask again, even when the hours stretch on and Louis doesn't invite Harry over. He doesn't even look at his phone, which is probably really shitty of him. He feels like he has something to prove to Nick, though, even though Nick assured him he doesn't. 

Nick and him sit around being dead to the world for a few hours, watching TV, before they pull themselves off the couch to make dinner and walk Moose. When they get back, Moose is panting happily and Nick goes upstairs to change, so Louis chances a look at his phone. 

He almost expects a slew of panicked texts from Harry and a few disappointed ones from Anne, but he's only met with one text from Harry. 

_ Mom says u said no to me coming over. It's fine but did i do something wrong? I'm sorry if i did. Can you just let me know if everything's okay? I really hope i didn't upset you. Can i still come over Sunday? _

It was sent almost three hours ago, and Louis feels like such a fucking asshole. He  _ knew  _ Harry would be upset about him cancelling, so he should've at least been available through his phone, but he wasn't and he left Harry in the dark thinking he did something wrong.

God. He's just fucking up left and right lately, isn't he?

_ you're alright love _ , he texts back. _ you didn't do anything wrong. everything's good. of course we're still on for sunday x _

Yet when Sunday comes around and he gets Anne's text to confirm that Harry's good to come over, he cancels again, for no other reason other than he's still scared that he's fucking everything up with Nick. 

Surprised isn't the word Louis would use to describe how he feels when he opens his front door at ten o'clock at night on a Monday night and sees Harry standing there. No socks or shoes, no jacket. No Anne. Just a shaking, crying Harry standing there, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand and inhaling broken breaths. 

Not surprised -- Louis had a gut feeling him cancelling on Harry twice was going to send him tumbling. Disappointed, maybe. In himself and Harry for leaving home without permission again. And maybe a little self-hatred too, because he's upset Harry, and Nick has consistently told him to stop shutting Harry out, yet he did it anyway. 

"You can't do this to me," Harry whimpers out, sounding pained. "You can't just -- just push me away like I don't matter. What did I  _ do _ , Louis? What did I -- Do I even matter to you?”

"Of course you do," he replies immediately, before he can process anything else. Good for Harry though, to be able to tell Louis that he fucked up and why and how it's made him feel. He couldn't do that for himself a few months ago. "I'm sorry. Seriously."

Harry lets out a shuddering breath, and Louis sighs quietly before moving to the side to let him in. He comes in, but he doesn't move to sit or to pet Ellie when she brushes passed his legs. Moose must still be upstairs with Nick in their bedroom. Louis came downstairs about five minutes ago to grab them a snack; Nick is going to be wondering where he is soon.

"My mom said you might've needed a break from me," Harry says, sounding every ounce of distraught as he looks. "Is that true?"

Anne didn't say that, Louis knows it. She probably told Harry that Louis needed a break, and Harry mentally tacked on the  _ from me  _ part. 

"No, of course not. You know how much I care about you."

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "You haven't talked to me in almost a  _ week _ . You know, I -- " he shakes his head and wipes at his face. Immediately, his arm goes back to hugging his middle. "I have a lot to work through on my own, and I don't need you fucking it all up even more."

Louis doesn't know how to fix this. He's stressed out of his mind, with Nick going away and Harry being mad at him and him fucking everything up. It's not a good enough excuse, he knows it's not, but his brain feels fried and he can't come up with something to say to Harry right now. 

"Harry," he tries, encouraging his brain to be fucking useful for once. "I'm sorry. I promise I'm not sick of you, okay? I just had an off week. There's been some stuff going on in my life, but I promise I won't let that affect our time together again. I'm serious." He smiles weakly. "I'm pretty sure I need you as much as you need me right now."

Harry glances to the side, and at first Louis thinks he's feeling shy or something, but then Nick emerges from the doorway, looking awfully confused and not wearing a shirt and holding Louis' phone. Harry practically cowers away from Nick, immediately stumbling over to sit down at the chair at the dining room table that's right by Louis. He won't make eye contact.

"Anne keeps calling," Nick says, handing Louis his phone. "Think I know why now. Hey, Harry."

"Hello," Harry says quietly, all the courage he was showing Louis completely diminished. 

Louis sighs, staring down at the two missed calls from Anne. She's probably going out of her mind right now. "I have to call her back, hold on," he grumbles, dialing her number. She answers on the first ring. 

"Please tell me he's at yours," she says immediately. She sounds frantic.

Louis nods. "Yeah, he is. He's safe. He's just -- a bit upset, but he's alright. I'll drive him back home when he's ready."

She curses, and she sounds genuinely mad. "He about gave me a heart attack, Christ. He went to bed early, but I didn't think anything of it; he's been having a terrible day today, ever since I told him about Daniel and Gemma getting engaged."

Louis hadn't heard anything about that, but he doesn't let it hurt him considering it's probably a new thing. And besides, Louis had been ignoring Harry. If Gemma caught wind of that, he's sure she wouldn't be in a rush to share her good news with him. "I'm sure he's sorry. I am too, by the way. Just, for like. Everything, I guess."

She doesn't say anything for a moment. Finally, she sighs. "It's alright, Louis. Have him home by a decent time tonight though, please."

"I will. Bye, Anne."

"Bye, Louis."

He hangs up the phone and glances up. Both Harry and Nick are looking at him, Harry looking apologetic and Nick looking beyond confused still. He doesn't know what to say to either of them.

"Thank you for telling me about my phone," Louis says to Nick, kind of awkwardly. Nick smiles at him warmly and shrugs. 

"I'm gonna go back upstairs. Night, Lou. And Harry."

"Night, Nick," him and Harry say back, in unison. Nick scoops Ellie up before disappearing back down the hallway, and then it's just him and Harry again. Not sure what else to do, Louis sits opposite to Harry at the table. Harry blinks at him a few times, gnawing on his bottom lip. His hair is way passed his shoulders now; he never took Louis up on that offer of cutting his hair. It's okay, though. Whatever makes him most comfortable. 

"You hurt my feelings," Harry says slowly, choosing every word carefully. Louis' heart clenches, Harry reminding him of an upset child. 

"I'm really sorry, H. I didn't -- I was being selfish and completely disregarded how me blowing you off for no reason would hurt you."

Harry nods stiffly. He doesn't accept Louis' apology, not yet. Louis can tell. But he's not sure what else he can say. He certainly can't tell Harry that he did it out of panicked fear that he was screwing things up with Nick because Nick blew up on him one day for no reason. Yeah, he definitely has to keep that to himself. 

Harry clears his throat before lifting his legs to the chair and pulling them to his chest, his arms going to wrap around them. "Gemma and her boyfriend got engaged," he tells Louis. He's frowning. "Last week, I think. I didn't -- I haven't even met him."

Louis winces. If one of his sisters was marrying some guy he'd never met, Louis would throw a literal tantrum. "There's always time. You can meet Daniel whenever."

Harry just sighs pitifully. "We're just at that age, I guess. 'm twenty-six, you're almost twenty-nine. You're engaged. Gemma's engaged. Liam's married and has a son, who I also haven't met."

"I haven't met Liam's kid yet, either," Louis is quick to say. "Him and Jillian only had the kid last week. Two weeks now, actually, but still. You know how Liam is, he likes to take those types of things slow."

Anne's already told him everything Louis' saying, Louis knows it, so it's not helping any. It's like he can actually see the words he's saying bouncing off of Harry's skin, refusing to penetrate. Harry's so caught up in feeling isolated and alone, something he'd been for years. He's not going to just change his way of thinking because Louis or Anne want him to. 

"I just -- " Harry's voice catches, and he clears his voice again stubbornly. "It feels like the whole world is moving on without me, and I have no possible way of catching up.”

Louis closes his eyes briefly and rubs at his temples. He wants to help Harry succeed in life so, so badly, but Harry's right: how can you make up six years? Especially your early twenties, which are for exploring who you are and making a place for yourself in the world. Harry missed out on so much. It doesn't seem very possible to Louis, either.

"I haven't gone anywhere other than home or here or the doctors since I've been back. It's been over six months -- that's half a year, Louis, and I'm  _ wasting  _ it." A tear slips out of his eye. "And I know I am, but I still can't convince myself to just do  _ something _ , start  _ somewhere _ ."

Louis shakes his head sternly. "Does six months seem like a long time to you?" Harry nods once. "That's only one-twelfth of the time you spent --  _ there _ . Away. Give yourself more time, Harry. Please stop expecting so much from yourself."

He thinks he's made some profound point, but again, Harry doesn't seem to even  _ want _ to comprehend it.

"Gemma and Daniel's engagement party is in two days," Harry says. "It's at her apartment, which I haven't been to. And a lot of people are going to be there, a lot of people I don't know. A lot of people who've either heard barely anything about Gemma having a brother, expect for that he went missing and now he's back." He sounds angry, almost. Cold. "I want to be there. I'm pretty sure I  _ have _ to be there; I'm her brother, right? I'd be a terrible brother if I didn't go."

"No, you wouldn't be," Louis says. "She'd understand. Daniel, too."

Harry looks angry and miserable and sad. "I'll regret it for the rest of my life if I don't go. I'll never, ever get over the fact that I missed your engagement. I can't miss hers too." His face is flushed and his eyes are red. He's going to cry again, Louis can see it and hear it in his voice. "I can't miss hers too, Louis."

Louis has no idea what to say.

"You don't have to miss it, Haz. You can go."

Harry chokes out a sob, one that's been brewing for a while. "I can't. I  _ can't _ . I can't even go to the fucking grocery store with my mom, how can you expect me to go sit around at a party with strangers? Everyone's going to be loud and drinking and talkative and -- and I'm just going to be sitting there, feeling like such a fucking loser. What if -- what if I have a meltdown at her party? That'd be so fucking embarrassing, and knowing me, it's probably going to happen, and -- "

"Alright, stop," Louis demands. He shakes his head. "I'm not going to listen to you talk bad about yourself anymore, okay? You need to be nicer to yourself."

Harry wipes at his eyes and shrugs jerkily. "I'm not going to be able to go, Lou. I'll chicken out last minute, I know I will." His eyes fill with tears. "And then Mom or Robin's going to have to stay home with me and miss out on it too, and I can't," his voice cracks, "I can't keep holding them back."

God, when will Harry stop feeling like a burden? He's talking so poorly about himself right now, talking like life's this shitty game he got stuck playing, and Louis can't take it anymore.

He probably set this off, is the thing. By ignoring him, even for only a few days, he planted seeds of doubt and mistrust and fear into Harry's head that quickly bloomed in wildflowers. He might've not started whatever led to him feeling this bad about everything, but he definitely aided to it.

Harry's crying freely now, just staring at Louis with tears rushing down his cheeks. "I just wanna be away again," Harry whimpers out. "Not -- not back there, but just -- away. I want all this hard stuff to stop. I want to stop hurting everyone, to -- to stop forcing everyone to 'understand,' to -- "

Louis stands up quickly, and Harry stops talking, probably knowing he's said too much. He sits there, not speaking anymore, and cries and cries. Louis wraps his arms around him the best he can with the way he's sitting, and Harry stumbles to his feet and hugs him back, tight and desperate. It feels like the hug they shared when Louis first saw Harry at the hospital, which makes Louis want to throw up. Harry's come so far since then. He tries to remind himself that this is just a bad day, and when Harry has bad days, they're really, really bad. That he'll be a little better tomorrow, and even worse the day after that, but eventually, the bad day will end and Harry will be back at his house furrowing his eyebrows at a puzzle sprawled out on Louis' table. 

But Harry said he wanted to be away, for everything to stop. That can't be ignored, even if it can be blamed on a bad day. 

"You promised your mom you wouldn't hurt yourself," Louis grits out, close to tears himself. 

Harry sobs loudly, his cheek pressed against Louis' shoulder. "I never promised that," he croaks out. "Mom keeps saying that to me, that I promised that here when I got high. But I never did. She just asked me not to."

Louis clenches his eyes shut, heart beating rapidly in his chest. That's the last thing he wants to hear. 

"I'm not going to do anything," Harry says, tightening his arms around Louis. "I'm not -- I wouldn't hurt myself. Couldn't, I mean. I really don't think I'd have it in me. And I don't want to die, I don't, I just -- it's hard, Louis."

"Promise  _ me _ , then. That you won't. Because I know you, and you don't break promises."

"I promise, Louis," he replies, almost immediately, which soothes Louis' fears. "I promise you."

"Good. That's -- good."

Harry ends the hug after another thirty seconds or so. He pulls away and wipes at his blotted red cheeks, his hands trembling. "Can you take me home?" he asks, wrapping his arms around himself. "I'm tired."

"Yes," Louis replies quietly. "Let me just go tell Nick I'll be right back."

Harry nods, looking off to the side instead of at Louis. Louis sighs quietly as he walks up the stairs, his heart still beating too fast. When he opens the door to their bedroom, he finds Nick sitting up in bed, asleep, looking like he fell asleep while watching TV. Moose lifts his head in curiosity at Louis, but Louis quickly goes before he gets up, not wanting to wake Nick.

Harry's quiet on the way back, though Louis' not in the mood for talking himself. He feels drained. But about halfway through the car ride, Harry's hand darts out across the console and grabs Louis' right hand from the wheel, takes it his own and squeezes. Louis, carefully and confused, intertwines his fingers with Harry's. 

"Is that okay?" Harry asks, voice barely above a whisper. 

Louis nods, a lump in his throat, and squeezes Harry's hand. 

Harry looks down, shoulders hunched. "I just need the comfort right now, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Haz. That's stupid." What he really wants to say is,  _ thank you so much for finally trusting me enough to comfort you physically _ , or _ a hug and holding hands? I must be lucky today _ . In reality, he knows Harry's probably giving him bigger pieces of himself than he's ready to because Louis blew him off for a couple days, and he's scared he's going to do it again. It makes him feel like an asshole, and like he's taking advantage, but he won't pull away because that'll just hurt Harry more. 

They pull up to the driveway, and the porch light is on. Louis pulls away finally to turn off the car, because he's going to walk Harry inside and have a quick talk with Anne about what Harry said. He goes to open the car door, but then stops himself. 

"If you want me to," he says slowly, "and you feel like you can handle it, I'll go with you to Gemma's party."

Harry's staring straightforward. "I haven't even been to her apartment before. That's too many new things at once, I don't -- it'll be way too much for me."

Louis nods, understanding that. He thinks for a minute, before coming to a decision. "Tomorrow's Tuesday; I'm off work on Tuesdays. Maybe you can ask your sister if we can swing by a few minutes, just to see the place? Maybe to meet Daniel, whatever you're comfortable with. And afterwards, then you can decide if you feel like you can go Wednesday or not. And if you can't, it's okay, because you'd already stopped by."

Harry's quiet for a moment before he nods. It's small, but it's there. "Okay," he whispers. 

"Okay?"

"Yeah. But I want my mom to come too."

"Okay," Louis agrees. He gives Harry a small smile before getting out of the car. The cold air feels too harsh for Louis right now, but he wraps his arms around himself and forces himself to get through. 

Harry goes upstairs to find Penny while Louis quietly tells Anne about everything that happened tonight, about what Harry said. She looks worried, and Louis feels bad for that, but communication between him and Anne right now is necessary. They're the two most important people in Harry's life currently. After a few minutes, Harry returns to the living room with an almost fully-grown Penny in his arms. She's still as social as ever cat, and Louis gives her a few pats before saying his goodbyes and leaving. 

When he gets home and into bed, Nick is still fast asleep. Louis sighs, turns the TV off, flicks off the lamp, and tries to get comfortable. He doesn't fall asleep until Nick, mostly still asleep, rolls over and presses against him, holding him close. 

"How old is Daniel?"

"Thirty."

"What does he do?"

"He's an engineer."

"Does he have any siblings?"

Louis holds back a sigh. Harry's been like this for the last ten minutes they've been in the car, rattling off question after question after question. Normally, Louis wouldn't mind, but it's not like he knows Daniel's life story. He's met the guy maybe three or four times. Anne would know, although she's busy driving and maybe purposely avoiding intervening. 

"I don't know," he finally replies. Harry frowns a little.

"He's an only child," Anne answers.

Harry nods like this clears something up for him, and then he falls quiet. He's anxious about this whole thing, and as if that wasn't obvious enough by his silence, he's fiddling with his fingers. Before, whenever he was feeling nervous, he'd twist his rings around. 

Louis points this out, asks Harry why doesn't wear his rings anymore, and Harry just shrugs. Louis wonders if he forgot that he wore rings, because sometimes, he has to be reminded of insignificant aspects of his life before. Trauma does odd things to the brain. 

They're almost there when Harry really starts to show just how nervous he is. He's doing that thing where he presses down hard on his cuticles with nails, he's gone completely quiet and withdrawn, and he's shaking his leg up and down. Louis ignores all of this -- sometimes it's best to leave Harry be -- but when he catches sight of tears in Harry's eyes, he immediately intervenes. 

"You'll be fine," Louis says, doing his best to sound soothing. Harry doesn't look at him, but Anne glances at them in the backseat using her mirror. "Your mom and I will take charge of the conversation. You can just sit there, okay? You don't haven't to do or say anything you don't want to."

Harry looks down at his lap. "I don't like that he knows what happened to me."

"Love, he's not going to use that against you. He's not going to even bring it up. It's -- "

"He's going to think I'm weak," Harry interrupts. "I'm her brother, and since -- since Dad isn't around, I'm supposed to be the one who, like, protects her, and he's going to think I'm a joke."

Anne's knuckles have gone white on the steering wheel. Harry's father isn't something that's brought up often, mostly because he's irrelevant to anything going on. "Harry," she starts, voice clipped. "Your father left when you were five, and I told you right at that moment that it didn't mean you had to step up, or be the man of the house, or anything like that. And Robin's been around since Gemma was ten; if she expects anyone to protect her from anything, it's him or me. Not you. You don't have to be her protector."

Louis nods in agreement. "And Daniel's a nice person, H. He doesn't think you're weak. Nobody does."

Harry shakes his head and retreats in on himself, knees up to his chest and head bowed. "I don't want to do this anymore."

Dread runs through Louis' body like ice cold water. They've drove twenty minutes already, and they're literally three minutes away from her apartment. He's so, so close. 

Anne sighs from the front seat. "Baby -- "

Harry cuts her off. "I want to go home." She tries to say something else, but he cuts her off again, this time with a loud sob. He covers his face by tucking his head in the crook of his arm, head turned away from Louis, but Louis can see he's crying from the way his body lightly shakes. "I wanna go home, Mom. Please, please take me home."

Louis unbuckles his seatbelt and scoots over so he's closer to Harry. He won't touch, but he wants Harry to know he's close by. "You're so close, Harry."

"I want to go _ home _ ," he chokes out, and it sounds like he's breathing unevenly now. Harry will be so, so disappointed in himself for this later, and Louis hates that he can't be more useful.

"Do you want me to pull over, baby?" Anne asks, voice gentle. Harry sobs out a yes and Anne pulls into a mostly empty parking lot. They're literally less than half a mile from Gemma's.

She gets out of the car and rounds it, and then she's opening Harry's door, telling him softly to scooch over a bit. He does, and so does Louis so there's room, and she sits next to him and closes the door. 

Harry's most definitely having a panic attack, or is at least at the start of one. He's pulled his face away from his arm so they can see his flushed, tear-streaked cheeks and trembling lips. He's was only nervous a few minutes ago, and now he's a mess. It's so unfair. 

Anne rubs his back gently until Harry starts breathing normally again. He doesn't stop crying though, and he wipes at his eyes every few seconds because they keep stubbornly leaking tears. Anne and Louis just watch him, until he wipes too hard at his eyes. Anne grabs his hands, tells him quietly not to do that. 

"It's humiliating," he says abruptly, his voice broken. "I hate myself sometimes."

"Stop that," Anne tells him sternly. Louis sighs. 

"You know your mom and I'd never judge you for anything. You don't have to feel embarrassed."

Harry shakes his mom's hands off him and wipes at his eyes again. This time, they offer no more tears. Harry wraps his arms around himself, staring forward and offering no response. Anne frowns at him. 

"That's the first time you've had a panic attack in two weeks, honey," she tells him. "That's progress. Don't feel so defeated."

Harry shakes his head and huffs quietly, looking down. "I had one before I went to Louis' yesterday."

She looks hurt. "Why didn't you come and get me?"

He scoffs, low and mean. He shakes his head again and doesn't say anything for a minute, before finally saying, "I just want to go home."

"Baby -- "

"God, just fucking take me  _ home _ ," he hisses. Louis can't see how he's looking at her, but he's pretty sure it's not nice. "You always say I need to get better about communicating what I want, so fine.  _ Take. Me. Home _ ."

Anne relents without scolding Harry for talking to her like that. She gets out of the car, and when she closes the door and it's just him and Harry for a second, Louis can't bite his tongue anymore. 

"That's your mom, Haz. I know you're upset, but don't talk to her like that."

Harry ignores him. He scoots back over to his seat and buckles his seatbelt, and Louis follows suit. Harry's nails are back to gnawing on his cuticles -- so, so many bad habits, but this one doesn't cause any real damage, so him and Anne leave it -- and he stares out the window. It must be a mess of self-hatred and anxiety whirling around in his head right now, and Louis hates it. 

When Anne starts the car, Harry jolts. After a moment, when Anne's pulling out of the parking lot and going the opposite way of their original destination, Harry clears his throat and whispers an apology to her. She tells him softly that they'll talk at home, and that it's okay.

It's completely silent in the car, so when Anne's phone rings, it makes them all jump. She answers it quickly, probably thankful for a distraction. It's Gemma asking where they are. Louis can hear Gemma's voice clearly, the volume on Anne's phone loud and the car quiet. 

"We're not coming anymore, Gems," Anne tells her quietly. Louis can see Harry's eyes drifting towards Anne, but he's still keeping his head turned. He's listening too, and he's trying not to be obvious about it. Louis wonders if eavesdropping is something that he does often.

"What happened?" Gemma asks. 

"It's alright, honey. Don't worry. Nothing happened. It's just -- he's not feeling up for it anymore."

Gemma sighs, long and unhappy, before saying, "I'm honestly not surprised. I don't why I thought he could actually do this."

Harry whips his head up to look at Anne, clearly hurt. To hear that Gemma's not surprised he backed out is probably his worst nightmare right now. He hates knowing he's letting people down. "Let me talk to her," Harry pleads, holding out his hand. 

Anne shakes her head slightly. "Not when you're still so upset, please."

"Please, Mom. I just want to talk to her."

She sighs and gives in. There was no real fight in her to begin with. Louis doesn't see the harm in it, anyway. Harry takes the phone and pulls his knees back up to his chest as he quietly says hello. Anne turns the radio on so Louis and herself can't hear Gemma's voice anymore. 

Louis can still hear Harry's. 

"I'm sorry, Gems. I just -- freaked out. You know how I am."  _ You know how I am _ , like he's apologizing for his entire being. Louis doesn't like it. "I know I disappointed you." A pause. "I know. I'm sorry. I'll be there tomorrow, I promise." Another pause. "No, I will be, I swear. It's important to you, so I'm going to be there." A longer pause this time, and then Harry's face is falling. He looks wounded. Louis wants to have some type of clue as to what Gemma said to him, but Harry doesn't respond and hands the phone back to his mom. He looks back out the window, eyes shining with tears.

Louis unbuckles his seatbelt again, and Anne scolds him before saying something to Gemma. Louis buckles into the middle seat, so he's close to Harry again. "What'd she say?" he asks, voice low. 

Harry bites down on his lip. He blinks a few times, and then he release it. "She said maybe it'd be better if I didn't come. So, like. So I'm not so stressed out all night." He shrugs, like it doesn't bother him, even though it clearly does. Louis thinks about leaving it there to avoid another meltdown, but Harry starts talking again. "She doesn't want me there, Lou."

"Hey," Louis says softly. "Hey, come on. Stop that. Come here." Harry glances at him warily before shifting closer to Louis and setting his head on Louis' shoulder and grabbing his hand. His hand is cold, so Louis covers it with his other hand. One of Harry's hands is tucked between both of Louis', and it looks a bit odd, considering Harry's hand is so much bigger than his. "She's only trying to make it easier for you," Louis continues, "you know that. Of course she wants you there. She just wants to make sure you know it's okay if you aren't."

Harry sighs, his breath fanning Louis' neck, sending shivers down his spine. He offers no response.

A few minutes later, Harry's knuckle brushes passed Louis' engagement ring, and Louis can't shake the overwhelming urge he has to take it off for the rest of the ride. 

An hour after Anne drops him off at home, Louis receives a text from Anne saying that Gemma and Daniel are going to have dinner at the Styles' house tonight. Apparently, it was Harry's idea. He said that he still wanted to meet him, and Anne hopes that them being home will bring some comfort to Harry. Louis' pretty sure it's all going to go to shit, but instead, it goes mostly well. Anne tells him that Harry pretty much avoided any direct conversation with Daniel, although it didn't really matter because Daniel was nervous too.

Despite it going alright, Harry decides that he doesn't want to go tomorrow after all. It's probably best for everyone if he doesn't, anyway. 

Still, Louis has to go, and he's going to have to go with Nick. It's not a bad thing -- of course it isn't -- but Louis didn't even tell him about the party yet. He made Nick his backup choice subconsciously, and that's a fucked thing to do to your fiancé in any situation. Nick won't know the difference, but Louis still has the decency to feel guilty. Like he does about pretty much everything else. 

Nick comes home stressed and tired. Louis thinks it's unfair for his boss to force him to work before he flies out of the fucking country for them, and so does Nick, although he'll never say. Louis could never handle that white-collared life, all fake smiles and unspoken rules and giving respect to people who don't deserve it. He'd crack the first day. 

"It's just a lot of preparation work," Nick tells him when Louis asks. He grabs a beer out of the fridge for both of them. "I'm going to be in South Africa for forty fucking days, and they've made sure I'll be completely busy for every single one of them."

Louis frowns, not liking Nick's tone. Nick loves his job; it's not like him to be so worked up over it. "You'll get through it just like you do every other trip. And you've never been to Africa. Maybe it'll be fun."

"It won't be fun," Nick rejects. "It's going to be the opposite of fun. I'm going to be miserable." Nick makes a pouty face. "You should come with me. Make it a little less terrible."

Louis scoffs, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Yeah, right." He completely thinks Nick's just joking.

"I'm serious, Lou." Nick shifts nervously in his spot on the bar stool, looking kind of desperate.

Louis just stares at him for a long moment, trying to work out if he's actually being serious. He is, Louis decides eventually, which doesn't make any sense. Louis tagged along once for one of Nick's trips -- a two week long stay in England -- and Louis pretty much spent the day alone in a hotel room, waiting for Nick to come back. It wasn't fun at all, and Nick agreed that it wasn't fair on Louis, so neither of them have brought up Louis coming with again. And besides, two weeks is a lot different than forty days. Louis can' just take all that time off from work, and Nick should realize that. 

"Nick, babe. Come on. You know I can't."

Nick sighs. "Why not?"

"I work, love. And -- "  _ and I can't leave Harry _ , is what he was going to say. He catches himself before the words come out, but Nick is looking at him with a fixed stare and a clenched jaw -- he knew what Louis was going to say. "And the pets," Louis gets out quickly. "We can't just leave them."

Nick looks off to the side, jaw still clenched firmly. Louis' heart begins to race; he doesn't want to have this fight again, he can't take it. Especially now, after he held Harry's hand and let him cuddle up to him in the car today. He already feels so guilty, and he'd just break down in tears if Nick got mad at him about Harry again. 

"How'd your day go?" Nick asks, much to Louis' relief. "Did Harry like Daniel?"

Louis gives him a short version of what happened, because he's not going to force Nick to hear about Harry anymore than he has to. "Speaking of Daniel though, um. His and Gemma's engagement party is tomorrow. If you want to come with me, I mean."

Nick sniffs and shrugs, takes another swig of his drink. He's tense right now. "I'm assuming you're going with Harry, so. I don't have to come."

"I want you to. Harry's not even coming, so you don't have to worry about him."

Nick scoffs lowly. "So I'd have to worry about him if he  _ was _ there?" He narrows his eyes. "What would I have to worry about, Louis?"

"Fine, I'll go by myself," Louis huffs, standing up straight. He's not going to do this with Nick right now. He can't take it. "I'm gonna go shower." He turns to leave, and Nick doesn't stop him. He doesn't apologize, and he doesn't take it back, and he doesn't offer to join Louis. Louis' hands tremble when he grabs the towels from the linen closet, when he turns on the water, when he gets in. He's shampooing his hair, the sting of rejection heavy in his eyes, when Nick finally comes in.

They don't have sex -- that'd feel too much like manipulating Nick -- but they do take care of each other, and as Louis throws him a towel so he can dry off, Nick offers him a smile. "I'll come with you to Gemma's thing," he says, once they're dressed. Louis nods, feeling too stupid to answer.

They didn't used to be like this. 

"Lou, I'm sorry."

Louis shakes his head, the tears coming back to his eyes. He feels like Harry right about now -- neither of them seem to do anything other than cry lately, God. He leaves the bathroom, trying not to let Nick see him upset. It'll just make him feel worse. Nick takes his lack of response as anger. 

"Please don't be upset with me," Nick begs, walking a few feet behind him. Louis stops in the kitchen, leans against the counter with his elbows. Takes a deep breath. 

"I'm not upset with you." Despite his efforts, his voice falls flat, making it obvious he's sad. He gives up on trying to disguise it. "I'm -- why would I be mad at you? What have _ you _ done?"

Nick doesn't say anything, but he comes up behind Louis and sets his hands on his shoulders. 

"I used to think, like. I liked being the one who didn't fuck things up in our relationship. With Harry, like. I constantly started fights, but with you, like. You were usually being the idiot."

Nick scoffs and presses a kiss to the back of Louis' neck. All Louis can think about is how close Harry was to him today, how he let him be. "Thanks, babe. So kind."

"No, that's not what I mean. I just -- I'm the one messing things up again." Louis closes his eyes and rests his head in his hands. "Is that just what I do? Fuck things up?"

"You haven't fucked anything up, Lou. Maybe. . . maybe there's some things we need to work out between us, some boundaries we need to establish, but we're still okay. We're not fucked up." He pauses, and then continues. "And you weren't the one who fucked up your relationship with Harry, either. You had no contribution to how things ended between you."

They always fucking get back to Harry. 

Nick continues. "And you haven't fucked up your friendship with him now. You're so good for him, Lou. If you need anything to show you that you don't mess things up, it's him. He trusts you so much."

Louis doesn't want to acknowledge anything Nick just said, because he can't help but feel like he's supposed to not give away something. "I hate the way I make you feel, like. Insecure. Like you can't trust me or something."

"I trust you wholeheartedly, Louis. It's just. . . " He exhales deeply. "I don't necessarily trust him. Harry, I mean. He's your ex-boyfriend, and he's still -- there's at least some emotions leftover, on both of your ends. And I don't know him well enough to know if he'd act on that or not."

There's so, so many things that Nick just said that Louis wants to react to, but he chooses one. "He's traumatized, Nick. I'm pretty sure he'd be one-hundred percent okay with never being intimate with someone again."

Nick's hands squeeze at Louis' shoulders. Nick's too kind, too afraid of upsetting Louis. He's not the one who did something wrong, yet he's comforting Louis. "Maybe you're right, but maybe, like. Maybe he'll act on it in his own way. I don't know, let's. . .” he sighs. "Let's just stop talking about it and go watch a movie or something." 

Louis agrees wordlessly. Nick kisses the back of his head and goes to the living room, murmuring something to Moose who gets up and follows. Louis stands there for a moment, wondering what Nick means.  _ Maybe he'll act on it in his own way _ . 

And then Louis realizes exactly what Harry means. Harry has roundabout ways of asking for what he wants. Asking indirect questions, getting upset about the smallest things, wrapping his arms around himself. And maybe, maybe, Harry's roundabout way of asking for Louis is allowing him to touch, allowing himself to do the touching. Like that time Louis' sisters visited and he grabbed his hand. Like that time he set his head on Louis' shoulder. Maybe, maybe Nick's right. And if he is, well. Then Louis' pretty sure he's been giving Harry what he wants in a roundabout way of his own.

The engagement party is nice.

Kind of. Nice in the 'awe, good for you, now where's the food?' kind of way. In the 'me and my fiancé both got to get off work early for this and spend the evening together, so thank you' kind of way. But there's a lot of people here that Louis doesn't know, and he's never been one to entertain small talk, so he sits next to Nick, tucked into his side a little, smiling politely at the person Nick's talking to. He's not paying any attention, just allowing himself to take in the warmth and smell of Nick and not have to be anyone important right now. 

He's dying to check his phone, though. To see if Harry's doing alright with not being here. Anne's here, somewhere, with Robin. The apartment isn't all that fancy, but it's big enough that Louis can't see them wherever they are. Harry offered to have Niall stay with him so they can both go, and when Harry texted him to tell him that, all Louis could think is, shit, I'm so proud of him. And he told Harry as much. He's growing. Progressing, whatever. But Harry six months ago -- hell, Harry two months ago -- wouldn't be able to spend the night alone with a friend who wasn't Louis. And Louis' proud of him for that. 

His pride does nothing to waver the instinctive fear that he has about Harry. Harry might text him, might need him, and Louis' trying to prove to Nick that they can have one night without Louis being distracted by Harry. Nick didn't ask him to, and he probably doesn't even notice Louis not checking his phone, but dammit, Louis is going to stick with it. Besides, he knows Anne will be checking her phone regularly. She doesn't have a loving fiancé she's scared to disappoint -- if something's the matter with Harry, she'll know, and it'll be taken care of.  _ He'll _ be taken care of. 

So, Louis sits and smiles and doesn't check his phone. It's quite boring honestly, although it's better than being wrapped up in some chaotic shit storm, so he'll take it. Boring can be good. 

About an hour into it, Gemma finally gets to them, looking beyond overwhelmed. She hugs them both and apologizes about being such a bad host. "There's just so many people," she says, sounding stressed. 

"It's alright, Gemma," Nick tells her, smiling wide. The person he was talking with excuses himself before heading for the kitchen. 

Gemma smiles appreciatively at him. "I thought -- well, you two's engagement party was so big, and there were so many people, I was trying to steer clear of that. Seemed awfully overwhelming. And, well." She shrugs, still smiling. "I have about a hundred less guests than you and I'm still running all over the place trying to say hi to everybody."

Louis grins. Their engagement party was fucking wild, probably more of just a party than anything. There was too much booze and too many people and so much cake; half their fridge was filled with cake leftovers the next day, even after he forced everyone to take home a piece. "Just say hi to the ones you actually like," Louis whispers. "It's more fun that way."

Gemma snorts and lowers her voice. "If I did that, I'm pretty sure I'd only talk to, like, five people the whole night. Daniel has _ so _ many friends." The three of them laugh, and, abruptly, Gemma's face gets all serious. She scoots closer to Louis on the couch and sets a hand on his arm. "Really, though. How is Harry? Have you talked to him at all today?"

Louis nods, swallowing thickly. He knows Nick doesn't mind them talking about Harry, he knows it, but he still feels terrible. "I texted him a bit this morning. I think he's content with not being here. He met Daniel, and I think that's what it was about for him. About not feeling included. He's probably a lot disappointed in himself for not coming, but. I don't think he'll be too upset."

She nods, lips pressed in a firm line. "He was a nervous wreck the entire night last night, I felt so bad for him. Daniel went to shake his hand, and Harry just -- he completely flinched away from it, like Daniel was going to hit him or something. I thought he was getting better about that kind of thing, you know? Touching."

"With people he trusts, he's gotten a ton better with it. But maybe he's just not there with Daniel yet."

"Of course," Gemma agrees. "Of course not. I don't expect him to be. It's hard, is all. I still feel like Daniel doesn't believe me when I say it's not personal. That Harry doesn't hate him, he's just like that now." She looks out at the living room, at the room full of people, with a haunted look on her face. She shouldn't be worrying about Harry on a day like today. She looks back to him, face still serious. "Has he told you anything? About what happened to him?"

Louis shakes his head. They don't talk about it. 

"Me neither." She looks somewhat relieved. "He's told Mom some stuff, and she tells me some of it, but. I'm kind of glad she's not telling me everything, you know? I don't want to hear about that." She brushes her hands down her skirt, fusses with a loose thread at the end. "He told me once that, um. I guess intense itching is, like, common for people who are using heroin, and he just kept itching and itching and itching at his arm, and he split open the skin, and -- he told me it was bleeding a lot. That he couldn't remember it exactly, but he remembers thinking that it was gushing. And they just didn't do anything about it, and he -- " She squints her eyes, and she's not really looking at him anymore, more so looking through him, somehow. "He thought he was going to bleed out. He thought he was going to die, so he used his shirt, like, as a tourniquet? And he laid there, thinking he was going to die, and -- " She scoffs. "They got mad at him for ruining his shirt, and they beat the fucking shit out of him."

Louis doesn't know what to say to that. He's staring at her, trying to figure out an appropriate response. All he can really focus on is the image his mind made up of a terrified Harry thinking he was going to die. Gemma was right: he doesn't want to hear about that, either. He didn't need to know the details. Anne has a way of telling Louis these types of things that don't hurt him so deep, but Gemma, she just -- she told it like he told it. Raw and painful. 

He clears his throat. "When did he, um. When did he tell you that?"

"Two or three weeks after he was released from the hospital,” she says. “He had a doctor's appointment, and Mom was talking with his doctor outside the room me and him were in. He had to get his blood drawn, and this bitchy nurse wanted it done right then and there because we came in a little late because Harry had a bit of a meltdown before coming in. She wouldn't wait for our mom to come back, so I held his hand and told him to tell me a story to take his mind off it." She laughs, short and hollow. "I expected to hear about, like. A dream he had once, or something about his childhood. I wasn't exactly expecting that."

Louis hates how sad Gemma looks. Nick laughs a little, forcing Louis back down to reality. He'd forgotten Nick was even there. 

"Probably made that nurse feel like shit," he says, to which Gemma laughs at. 

"She gave him a sucker for 'being good' afterwards. Pretty sure she was scared we were going to get her fired or something."

Louis wants to say something useful, like telling Gemma that she hasn't let Harry down in any way. He still hasn't gotten used to the fact that Gemma doesn't live with him at home anymore, which, like Anne said all those months ago, makes no sense because they hadn't lived together for a while before he was taken. Still, Harry gets lonely sometimes and calls her, especially in the middle of the night when he can't sleep. Louis only knows this because whenever Gemma doesn't answer, Louis' his next call. 

He can't say anything, though, because Daniel comes over, all cheery and happy, and Louis kind of wants to punch him in the throat because of it. 

"My mom just brought out the cake, and she wants us to get some before everyone else does so it's not all gone," he tells her, shooting an apologetic look towards Nick and Louis. He looks back down at Gemma and grins. "I set a piece aside for your brother. Your mom said she'd take it home for him."

And fuck, the way Gemma looks up at him, eyes sparkling -- it's about the cutest thing Louis' ever seen, and he feels relieved that Gemma has someone like him in her life. 

On the car ride home, Nick drives. Louis was supposed to, but he's stupidly tired for some reason and Nick decided he wanted to get home alive tonight, so he drove instead. 

"Daniel's a nice guy," Nick says randomly, turning a corner. Louis nods tiredly. 

"Gemma really likes him too. I'm happy for her."

Nick hums in agreement. "They're going to have the most adorable children. Wickedly good-looking, you can just tell."

Louis laughs and shakes his head at Nick. He's so weird sometimes, and Louis adores it. But still, in the back of his mind, Louis' reminded by the same thing he always is whenever Nick brings up kids in any form: a while ago, Nick told Louis that the second he was ready to adopt kids, he'd quit his job and find something that'd allow him to stay in New York all the time. Louis just had to say the word, and he'd do it. 

Louis hasn't said the word, and he's pretty sure he's not going to anytime soon, either. Nick, though, bless him, hasn't brought it up since. He knows that pressuring Louis to do things he is quite ready for makes Louis scramble in panic and do the opposite.

A silence stretches over them again. Louis is being lulled to sleep by the smooth noise of the car and the quiet tapping of Nick's fingers on the steering wheel, and he's barely awake when Nick says something. He rubs at his eyes and sits up more. 

"What'd you say?"

Nick glances at him, then back at the road. "Shit, babe, were you sleeping? I'm sorry."

Louis waves him off, tells him that he'll sleep when he gets home. He waits patiently for Nick to repeat what he said, and eventually, he does. 

"That Harry thing," he starts. "The thing Gemma told us. About him scratching."

Louis frowns and looks over at Nick, not sure where this is going.

Nick sighs loudly. "I forget sometimes what exactly he went through. Like, I just write the whole thing off as something bad and mysterious, but we -- we know what happened. We know what kind of people he got caught up in. He was -- God, Lou. I can't even say it, and he had to live through that. Getting beaten, and drugged, and -- and  _ raped _ , fuck. Being sold like fucking property." He drags a hand through his hair and curses. "I'm just saying, like. I can't even imagine what he's been through. The whole story, I mean. And he doesn't talk about it with anyone but his mom occasionally?" Louis nods hesitantly. Even that, though, is rare, unless Anne is lying to him when she promises that she's telling Louis everything. "That's not good for him, babe."

Louis glances nervously out the window. He feels caught out, kind of. He doesn't think about that stuff, either. Not really. "You mean he should see a therapist?"

Nick nods. "And I know that'll probably scare him off, but maybe you can look into? See the different options there are and try to work out which ones would be best for him."

He's right; Harry would definitely have a hard time seeing a regular, go-to-a-clinic therapist. He's not exactly sure what other options there could be, but he'll try to figure some out. Harry definitely needs someone to talk to about all this, and he seemed somewhat open to the idea a few months ago. Though, he's sure Anne's brought it up to him since then, and as far as Louis knows, he hasn't been to one. 

"Why do you care?" Louis asks. He realizes the brashness of his words, and fixes it. "I mean, why are you suddenly thinking about ways to help him?"

Nick's silent for a moment, staring at the road. It's dark out, and nobody's on the road except them and a few other cars here and there. "I realized something tonight," he says. "After Gemma said that, I was thinking, and, like." He lowers his voice. "You could've been with him. You could've been there, outside of the mall with Harry, and have been taken too. You could've been violated like that, I just -- it makes my head go kind of crazy thinking about, but. I don't know. It freaked me out, I guess."

Louis nods, understanding what he means. He reaches across the console and pats Nick's thigh. As he goes to retract his hand, Nick grabs it in his own. He intertwines their fingers and kisses the back of Louis' hand and rests their clasped hands on his thigh. 

"I don't know where'd I be in life without you, Lou," Nick mumbles, sounding almost embarrassed. It makes Louis' chest hurt, the honesty of it. He squeezes Nick's hand as hard as he can, and Nick does the same back.

After a long day of work, Louis gets a text from Anne if Harry can come over. 

_ Of course _ , he texts back.  _ How is he today? _

_ Back to normal, although he got a little weepy today out of nowhere today. He should do fine tonight _ , she sends, and Louis sighs in relief. That's what Louis wants to hear. He's pretty sure if he'd lose it to a fit of tears himself if Harry had another bad day in a row and he had to be around it, as selfish as it sounds. 

Louis goes back to his bedroom to put on some clothes; he had stripped down to his boxers when he came home. As he grabs on of his pajama shirts, his fingers shuffle through a few of old Harry's t-shirts, the Rolling Stones one still missing. That was Louis' favorite to wear. He wonders if Harry realized it was more worn than he left it. 

He pulls on one of his own shirts, and then decides it's probably time to give Harry his old stuff back. It has probably been time for a while, but Louis hasn't really thought of it until now. It's not like he has a bunch of Harry's old things just laying around; he only let himself take a few things of Harry's things from the apartment. Five shirts, a pair of pajama pants, a few of his necklaces and rings, and his old journals. There were two of them that Harry filled up during their time at the apartment, and Louis never looked inside them -- Harry would hate it if he did -- but he had figured that he'd maybe want to look inside them one day, as some sort of closure.

He grabs it all and stands, walks back down the stairs and puts it on the kitchen table so he doesn't forget about it. He makes sure the necklaces don't get tangled in their place before going to the living room and turning on the TV. 

Harry's knocking on his door fifteen minutes later, a new puzzle gripped tightly in his hands. Louis eyes it carefully, silently begging it not to be incredibly hard, and invites Harry inside. Harry sits at the table like he always does, and he's so caught up in opening the puzzle box that he doesn't notice his old stuff on the table for a moment. He notices it when he gets the puzzle's top off and sets it to the side, and he frowns. 

"Are those mine?" he asks, reaching forward to pull it closer to him. 

"Yeah, I thought maybe you'd want them back." Louis sits down at the table across from his and grabs the box from Harry's side, slides it over to him. Harry's looking at him intently, and Louis wonders if maybe it wasn't a good idea to do this. He forgets, still, that simple things can trigger an emotional response from Harry. 

"Did you read these?" Harry motions do his journals. Louis shakes his head, and Harry looks relieved. He's always been weird about that. He grabs one of the four rings Louis has and slides it over his pointer finger, and they both ignore how it's slightly too big for him now. Despite Anne's efforts, Harry still hasn't managed to gain all his lost weight back, although he no longer looks sick and frail. He thumbs over his necklaces -- one with a paper airplane, one with a cross, and one of a key -- contently. "You sure you don't want to keep these?" he asks, meaning the shirts. 

Louis hesitates, and then nods. "They're yours, so."

Harry grabs the shirt on the bottom, his old Ramones tee, and slides it back to Louis. "At least keep one," he murmurs, and he puts the rest of his stuff on the chair next to him. Louis grabs the fabric of the shirt tightly in his fingers, the material worn and somewhat ratty. It's the shirt that Louis refuses to wear from the pile, because it's the shirt that Harry wore to bed the night before he went missing. He hasn’t washed it since that, and maybe that’s a little weird, but -- that was the freshest piece of Harry he had, and he wasn’t about to tamper with it. 

He moves it to the side and tries extremely hard to not think about what Nick said about Harry showing his love for Louis in his own ways. It doesn't really work. 

For the next twenty minutes, the two of them sort through the one-thousand puzzle pieces to pick out all the edge pieces, because Anne told Harry that it's easiest if they start with the border first. The puzzle itself is a picture of four bright, old-fashioned houses in the back of a busy street, and it looks moderately easy, all the houses distinct, unique colors. 

When they finally have all the edge pieces separated, Louis gets up to order a pizza and grab his laptop so they can watch something on Netflix. They already watched all the seasons of  _ The Office _ , and now they're working their way through T _ hat 70s Show _ . Both Harry's pick. 

"Have you thought about getting back into journaling?" Louis asks, pulling up an episode. He positions the laptop so both of them can see it easily. 

Harry, who's intently working on the puzzle, glances up briefly. "I don't like to write," he says, tone kind of flat. "Hurts my wrist." 

Louis frowns at that. Sometimes, he forgets that Harry had his wrist in a cast for a while, because he wasn't there when he got it off. "Is that normal? Like, for it to hurt still?"

Harry shrugs. "I don't really use my right hand as my dominant hand when I can help it." He sniffs, reaches over to grab a turquoise piece. "It'd been broken for so long, I guess I got used to not using it as much. When I got my cast taken off, the doctor said to try to use it like normally, but, like. Sometimes I forget it's not broken anymore."

Louis hasn't noticed Harry coddling that wrist or anything, so maybe he only does it sometimes. Maybe he thinks he does it more than he actually does. 

"And writing gets me frustrated," Harry continues. "Remember when we'd come back to school after summer break, and, like, it'd feel so weird to write again? Because we hadn't for so long?" Louis nods. "It's kind of like that. I have to think about it more, and it irritates me that my handwriting is so different."

"Oh," Louis murmurs, because he's thinking about that story Gemma told him last night for some reason. It's going to cling to him for a long time, Louis can feel it. He wishes she didn't tell him that. 

When the pizza comes, they take a break from doing the puzzle and just talk normally. Harry asks a lot about the party. He also tells Louis that he thinks he's going to try and get closer with Niall again. He comes over every few weeks to check in with Harry, but Harry realized last night how much he missed just doing stupid things with him. It makes Louis happy to hear. 

“He doesn’t make me talk about it,” Harry told him quietly. He looked up at Louis, guilty. “I know you don’t either, but -- I don’t know. With you, I can’t help but think about what I lost out on. Being around him is, like. . . easier, in a way.” The guilt settled deeper into his features. “I don’t mean it negatively,” he said. “You’re still my favorite.”

Around six-thirty, Harry realizes that Nick's not home yet and he should be. He asks, and Louis can't help but sigh. 

"He's working late, lately," he tells him, fitting two pieces together. They've made a decent amount of progress in under two hours. "He's leaving again, next week. Going to South Africa. They always work him extra hard before he goes somewhere."

Harry looks up at him and frowns. "How long is he gone for?"

"Forty days."

Harry immediately looks back down, looking like this is somehow all his fault. "That really sucks, Lou. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he mumbles, even though it doesn't  _ feel _ fine. He's going to miss Nick like crazy, but he always misses Nick like crazy, so really, he just needs to suck it up and get through it. Nick has a job to do, and Louis' not going to hold him back from it. 

They're both silent for a moment. "Could I, like," Harry starts, voice wavering. "Could I come over more? When he's gone? Since I'm not going to be in the way of you two, could I?"

"You're never in the way of me and Nick," Louis tells him, "but sure. That'd be nice."

Harry keeps his head ducked down, but Louis can still see him smile softly.

Two nights before Nick is due to leave, Louis' phone rings in the middle of the night. He stirs, not having completely broke through sleep just yet, and then it rings again, and he's officially awake. He rolls over and grabs his phone, sleep clinging to every inch of him. He's expecting to see Harry's name on his phone, and it is. 

He sighs, and answers. "Hey, Haz."

He expects to hear hyperventilating or crying, but instead, he's met with a calm voice. "Hi, Lou. I'm sorry if I woke you up."

Louis glances at the time on his phone; it's fifteen minutes past three in the morning; he can't lie and say he wasn't sleeping. Harry wouldn't buy it for a second. "It's alright. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just can't sleep."

Louis sits up and rubs at his eyes. He's getting the feeling Harry wants to talk, and Louis can't wake Nick up this early in the morning. He pulls himself out of bed and pats Moose's head before leaving the bedroom. It's chilly, as he's only in his underwear and no longer cocooned in a pile of blankets next to a warm body, so he goes to the living room, flicks on the light, and wraps the blanket hanging off their couch around his shoulders. 

Finally, he replies. "Why can't you sleep? Did you have a nightmare or something?"

"No. I told you, I'm okay."

Louis nods to himself. Harry sounds fine, so he has no reason not to believe him. "Why can't you sleep, then?"

Harry hums quietly. "Dunno. Can't turn my brain off, I guess."

"What're you thinking about?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Harry mumbles, although he doesn't sound irritated. He sighs before going quiet for a moment. "Us," he finally says, and he sounds embarrassed. "It's just -- strange," he continues quickly. "Going from being together to not. I was -- I was going through the photo album your family gave me again, and it just -- I always assumed that I had a life to go back to with you . . . I'm sorry. You're probably not the best person to talk about this with."

Louis knows they're edging on those boundaries Nick alluded to a while ago. He should probably tell him to go talk to his mom or his sister about it, about them, but he doesn't. "It's okay. We can talk about whatever."

Harry doesn't hesitate taking the offer. "Was it weird?" he wonders. "Dating Nick with me, like. Gone."

Louis feels his chest tighten, so he takes a deep breath. The beginning of his and Nick's relationship was insanely rocky, because Louis was an angry, sad person who craved affection so deeply but denied anyone offering some. "Yeah. It was weird. Really weird. Felt like I was cheating on you." He pauses, and then says, "Do you think it was cheating?"

"No. I don't think so."

It explodes a bubble of relief so big that Louis' pretty sure it was something he was subconsciously worried about for a really long time. "Okay, good. That's good. But, um. I was really mean to Nick, at first. I felt like he was trying to replace you or something, which was stupid, because in the beginning he didn't even know about you."

"Oh." He's quiet for a minute. "How'd you two meet?"

Louis frowns. "We don't have to talk about that, Harry. I don't want you to feel like you have to listen."

"I want to know," Harry objects. He sounds frustrated. "There's so many holes in my life right now, so many unanswered questions about everyone. Please, just tell me. I want to know."

Louis chews on his bottom lip before deciding not to deny Harry. He wants to know, so he gets to know. Harry's an adult; they can trust him to call the shots sometimes. "I had to stop by Liam's house to grab some stuff I left a few days prior, and Nick was there. At the time, Liam's wife was working in the same building as Nick. She was their accountant person. They're friends, and he was over, talking to Liam about cars, 'cause you know Liam. He's interested in everything."

"Yeah, he is. How'd that lead to you dating though?"

"He thought I was attractive, I guess." He feels dirty telling Harry this, like he's betraying him somehow. Putting him through pain, even though he asked for it. "He tried to talk to me, and I completely blew him off. He got my number from Liam, and he texted me. I ignored him for a few days, but then I texted him back."

"Why?"

"I was lonely. And drunk, I'm pretty sure." Harry doesn't say anything, and Louis takes that as him wanting Louis to continue. "We texted for a while. I was mean to him a lot, and even then, he put up with it. I don't know why -- he barely knew me. But he kept trying to be nice to me, and eventually, I was at a spot in my life where I really needed someone to be there for me. I couldn't go to anyone without worrying them -- everyone was still so cautious around me -- and I called him and he came over and -- yeah. We just kept talking from there."

"What was wrong? I mean, why did you need someone to be there for you?"

He closes his eyes, wipes a hand over his face. "I really missed you, Harry. It never got any easier for me, or your family."

"I missed you, too," Harry whispers. 

"We went from talking to each other every single day of our lives for pretty much twenty years, to -- to just nothing. I didn't even know if you were alive, and that drove me crazy."

"I'm sorry."

Louis opens his eyes and shakes his head to himself. "Don't apologize, Christ. It's not your fault."

From there, he tries to steer the conversation into a lighter direction. Harry started this conversation sounding content, and now, he's got that sad edge to his voice. He asks how Penny's doing, and Harry perks up immediately, telling Louis about how she's almost fully grown, and that she's turned out to be a little darker than most Siamese cats. He says that, when Daniel was over, she completely ignored both Gemma and Daniel in favor of sitting in Harry's lap, and it made him feel stupidly special because Penny's very social and loves meeting new people. 

The conversation drifts to Moose and Ellie, and it's Louis' turn to talk about his pets. He tells Harry that Ellie must sense Nick's going away again soon because she keeps rubbing up on him, and that Moose is too stupid to realize anything. It's not that he's dumb, it's just, sometimes, he doesn't pay attention to anything other than Louis or his toys. 

After about a half hour, Harry says he's getting tired and that he's going to try to go to sleep again. 

"Thanks, Lou," he murmurs. "I really appreciate you."

Louis smiles softly, "I appreciate you, too. Now go to bed."

After disconnecting the call, he goes back upstairs to his room. He tries to be quiet and avoids the one creaky place in their floor, but when he sits down in bed gently, Nick's hand reaches out and wraps his fingers around Louis' wrist. 

"Everything okay?" he asks, voice thick with sleep. He doesn't even open his eyes. Louis leans down and kisses his forehead, gets back under the blankets. Moose makes a huffing noise before he gets up and lays back down. 

"Yeah, he just couldn't sleep." He shakes Nick's hand off him so he can run his fingers through Nick's hair. "Sorry for waking you."

"It's fine," he mumbles, shifting over so he can press his head against Louis' hip. Louis smiles and moves so he's laying down flat on his back, and Nick immediately re-positions his head and lays it on top of Louis' chest. 

Before Louis goes to bed, he sees a text from Harry from five minutes ago. It's a picture of Penny peeking her head up from the blankets, eyes wide. He sends a heart and cat emoji before setting his phone down on the nightstand and snuggling up with his blankets. Sleep doesn't take long to come.

Nick, of course, has to leave bright and early for South Africa. It's a horrifyingly long flight, and to make it worse, Nick has to be at the airport by five. Which means Louis, the opposite of a morning person, has to be awake at three in the morning in order to have some sort of decent goodbye. 

Nick wakes at one so he can make sure he has everything in order and to be sure he can kill at least a handful of hours on the plane by sleeping, so when Louis rolls out of bed at three, he does it lacking any warmth on the bed with him. Moose and Ellie are both downstairs with Nick.

He sighs, wipes at his eyes, and goes to the bathroom. Once he's done, he tiredly gets down the stairs. Nick is sitting on the kitchen floor, two of his suitcases zipped and ready to go next to him while his other one is only halfway zipped. Nick is struggling to zip it -- it explains why he's on the floor -- and Louis sighs again and walks over to help him. 

Nick looks up. "Baby, I told you getting up this early was stupid." Still, he happily accepts Louis depositing himself on his lap. One of his arms wraps around Louis' lower belly, holding him close. 

"It  _ is  _ stupid," Louis agrees. "But I'd seriously regret it if I didn't, 'cause I'm about to not see your stupid face for forty whole days."

"Thirty-nine, I suppose. You're seeing me today."

"Forty, because your flight home is at noon, and you won't even land 'til the morning. Which, in case you don't realize, will require me getting up stupidly early again to pick you up from the airport."

Nick laughs quietly and kisses the back of Louis' head. "I can just have my dad pick me up like he usually does. He gets up at, like, three in the morning anyway."

Nick's right; Louis could do that. Nick's dad is the one who picked him up from the airport last time, but last time Nick wasn't gone for forty days. He was gone for a month, but still. A month is different from forty days. Louis' not going to be able to sleep the night before anyway; might as well make himself useful.

Louis helps Nick zip his stubborn suitcase, and then they just sit there on the floor together. Both of Nick's arms are now around Louis' middle, and Louis puts his arms over them. Ellie is curious, sitting next to them, and Moose is sniffing at the suitcases. This is Louis' family, his safe place, and Nick, a very important part of this little gang, is going to be gone for so fucking long. When Nick went to Australia, it was harder on them than it normally is. He hopes to God it's not hard this time, that it's just going to feel like Nick is taking a really fucking long time at the grocery store or something. And yes, he knows how ridiculous that sounds.

Louis ends up drifting back to sleep for about fifteen minutes right there, in Nick's arms. He wakes up to Nick gently whispering to him that he needs to get up so he can gets dressed, and Louis sighs tiredly. He somehow manages to pull himself up off the ground and towards the coffee maker while Nick goes upstairs. He pours them both a cup; it's not like Louis' going to have time to sleep before work after Nick leaves, so he might as well accept it now. He doesn't even have the time to take Nick to the airport like he normally does. 

Nick comes back downstairs in comfortable clothes that still manage to look acceptably casual. Louis holds out the mug of coffee for Nick, and Nick holds out Louis' phone. 

"Harry called a few minutes ago."

Louis' physically too exhausted to muster anything more than a quiet slash of panic in his stomach. He grabs his phone, mutters, "Why are you always looking at my phone?" just to be annoying, to which Nick laughs at and grabs his coffee. 

There's one call from four minutes ago. If it were important, Harry would've called him again by now, so he types out a quick text saying he can't talk right now, and when he tucks his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants, Nick frowns. 

"You aren't going to call him back?"

Louis furrows his eyebrows and takes a small sip of his coffee. It burns his throat, but it still tastes good. "He probably just can't sleep again, it's alright."

Nick doesn't look convinced, although he lets it go with a small shrug. Now that he's said that though, Louis has an itchy feeling of dread under his skin that's not going to go away until he hears Harry tell him he's alright. He manages to push it away, because he has to: his fiancé's leaving him to go off to some other country on another continent for forty days, and that's kind of Louis' main point of focus right now. 

Their time together goes by too fast, and Louis swears it hasn't been more than five minutes since Harry texted, but Nick's telling him sadly that his dad is pulled up in the driveway waiting for him and that it's time to go. 

"Don't look so sad, baby," Nick whispers, grabbing Louis' shoulders and bringing him in for a hug. He's warm and soft and all Louis wants him to do is stay. "I'll be back."

"I know," Louis murmurs, his face mushed against Nick's shoulder. 

Nick pulls away and squeezes his shoulders, a sad smile on his face. "Be good, yeah?"

Nick always says that; it's nothing new. It hits different now though, like Nick's asking him to do something specific. He nods, and Nick reaches forward and drags his thumb over Louis' chin. 

"I'll be back," Nick says again, this time when he's pulling the front door open after he's patted the dog and cat goodbye. Although, this time he adds, "So long as you'll have me."

Louis tries not to let the frown eat away at his entire face. _ That's  _ new; Nick never says that. "I'll always want you around," he says, and then corrects it when he doesn't like the way it sounds. "I'll always have you, Nick."

And Nick smiles, and it's a little sad, and the last words Nick says to Louis before he leaves for a forty day trip is, "I hope so," and then he leaves, and Louis doesn't really know what to do other than check his phone to see if Harry's okay. 

There's another missed call from him. His brain feels fuzzy from Nick's words and his heart doesn't seem to be working properly, but he forces himself to dial Harry's number and raise the phone to his ear. 

_ I hope so.  _

Harry answers. "Hi, Lou."

_ I hope so. _

Is he overreacting? He can't tell. But Nick sounded so sad, so defeated.  _ I hope so. _

"Hey, H. You alright?"

_ I hope so, I hope so, I hope so.  _

"I, um." Harry's voice sounds small. "I just had a nightmare. I'm -- it's alright though. If you can't talk."

And just like that, Nick's voice leaves Louis' head, and for the next half hour, Louis helps comfort Harry. Harry gets a little weepy when he tells Louis that it had felt so real and that he doesn't feel safe in his room right now, and Louis immediately offers to blow the day off at work and come over to see him. But Harry tells him no, that he feels sick to his stomach and being around anyone will be enough to make him throw up. 

On the entire way to work, Louis' mind is focused solely on Harry. Not on Nick, not on Nick's words and the possibilities of what they imply. Harry.

Louis tells himself it's because it's easier, even when he knows it's really not the truth. 

He's at Harry's house when Nick texts him that he's landed. Louis drove here after work, and it's nearing eleven now. Harry's been so anxious and needy tonight, Louis didn't have time to sit down and wallow in the sad fact that Nick was gone like he normally does, and quite honestly, he doesn't really mind. Throwing a pity party for himself doesn't make it any easier. 

Harry's not necessarily showing just how paranoid he is right now, but they can all see it. He's jumpy and his smile's not genuine and he won't let Penny leave his lap, even when it's been a few hours and she probably wants to get up and stretch her legs. 

Still, it's not like before. He doesn't hide away on himself, and he doesn't snap at them, and he tries to take his mind off things. Robin, Anne, Louis and him have been playing Monopoly for  _ hours _ . They're all hunched over the table and bored by now, and Anne's obviously going to win and Robin's on the verge of being completely out of money, but they still play because Harry needs this right now. He needs to be constantly reminded that he has a family that will always love and protect him. More importantly, though, he needs to be reminded that he's not back there, that the dream wasn't real. 

Louis does his turn quickly so he can text Nick back.  _ Glad you're safe xx Get any sleep on the plane? _ he writes, and then sets his phone on the table and flips it over so Harry can't see who's texting. The look Harry gives him makes him think he already knows. 

When Robin runs out of money at midnight, Louis catches the hidden look of relief on his face. They all sigh a little when Harry grabs two five-hundred bills out of the bank and gives them to Robin. 

"That's cheating, Harry," Anne tells him. Harry shrugs and the blanket wrapped around his shoulders falls down slightly. He pulls it back over his shoulder. 

"I'm the banker, so it doesn't matter." 

They all know that Harry just doesn't want to go back to sleep. He's afraid he's going to have another bad dream, or that if he lets himself sleep, when he wakes, he'll be back there. 

Robin sighs and scratches at his head. Both he and Louis have work in the morning. "I'll keep playing for a bit," Robin says, "but only if you try and eat at least a little."

Harry didn't eat dinner or breakfast. He ate a cup of fruit for lunch, Anne had told him, although he had to be coaxed into it. He's probably starving by now, and Louis still hasn't exactly figured out why Harry just doesn't eat sometimes. It could be that his stomach is in knots from being so anxious, or that he wasn't always given food where he was before. Sometimes he genuinely forgets, but days like today, it's something more than that, Louis can tell. Judging by the pleading look on Anne's face, she doesn't really know either. 

"Alright," Harry mumbles, looking down. 

"And let Penny go, please," Anne says softly. "She's probably got to use the bathroom by now."

Harry doesn't say anything to that, but he pets at Penny with a little more force. She doesn't look too bothered -- she and Harry have an unbreakable bond -- although Anne's right: the poor cat probably has to pee by now. Harry's had her wrapped up in her blanket for five hours now. At the very least, she wants food or water. 

Anne stands. "I'll go make you something to eat, honey."

Robin nods, says, "I'll be right back," and then Anne's going to the kitchen and Robin's going in the direction of the bathroom. They've put this on Louis to defuse, which is okay. They have to do it themselves often enough. 

"H," Louis starts. He stops when Harry shakes his head. 

"I know," he grumbles. He strokes Penny's back for a few more seconds before he kisses her head. He picks her up and sets her back down on the ground, and they watch as she stretches out and goes off to the kitchen. Harry looks down at his lap when she's gone. 

Louis pats his knee and immediately retracts it. Harry doesn't do well with touch on days like today. "She'll be back, babe."

Harry nods, though he doesn't look up. For a minute, Louis genuinely thinks this is all about the cat and that he's going to have to go find her and snatch her up and bring her back to Harry for him to perk up, but Harry finally looks up at him and Louis can just tell it's not about Penny. 

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he asks, voice so, so small.

The answer should be no. Ellie and Moose shouldn't be left alone all night and then all day tomorrow until Louis comes home for work. He made sure Lottie stopped by to feed them dinner and walk Moose, and they'll be fine on their own for one night, but still. And Louis' still in his work clothes, and he has work in the morning, and he doesn't have any pajamas, or a toothbrush. He'll have to get up an hour earlier so he can go back home, shower and feed the animals breakfast before leaving for work. Any sane person would say no, but Louis finds himself immediately saying yes. 

Harry looks mollified, and Louis forgets all the reasons why he should've said no. 

Harry apologizes to Louis about a million times for making him sleep on the floor next to his bed. 

"You can sleep in my bed, I'm sorry."

Louis sighs as he lays out a blanket on the floor. "Harry, you told me five minutes ago that you'd be uncomfortable with that."

"I know, but it's okay. I changed my mind."

Louis plops a pillow on the floor. "No you didn't. Don't lie to me. It's okay, H. Sleeping on the floor won't kill me." He grabs the other pillow Anne gave him and plops it on the other one. He lays another blanket on the ground in the hope it'll had some more cushion before sitting in his makeshift bed. The floor is still hard, but it's okay.

When he looks up, Harry's chewing on his fingernail in bed, looking down at him with teary eyes. Louis reaches up and knocks away his hand. Harry tucks his hands in his lap, though the guilty look doesn't leave his face.

"Harry, come on. It's okay."

Harry shakes his head. "I asked you to stay here and I won't even let you lay in bed with me. That's stupid."

"It's not. It's fine."

"I've shared a bed with you since before I can even remember," Harry points out, voice strained. "It's stupid."

Louis huffs a bit. It's difficult coming up with comforting things to say so much in one night. He knows if he takes the couch in the living room, it'll probably make Harry feel less guilty, but Harry asked if he could stay in his room. He wants a protector, and Louis going to be that for him.

"Things are different now," he says gently. He lays down on the floor and pulls the blanket over him. "I'm fine, see? All comfy."

Harry frowns. "You're lying."

He is -- the floor isn't exactly what he'd describe as comfy. "Nope," he objects. "Not lying. Now turn off the lamp and hush, please. I'm trying to sleep in my perfectly okay makeshift bed."

Harry gives him a wobbly but grateful smile. He turns off the lamp before reaching down to squeeze Louis' hand once. Louis can't return the gesture -- Harry moves away too fast -- but it doesn't matter. He doesn't need to for Harry to know how much Louis cares about him. 

Robin brings Penny into Harry's room a few minutes later, and Penny immediately curls up against Harry's chest. Louis smiles, and then grabs his phone so he can text Nick goodnight. 

He wakes barely two hours later to loud, explosive sobs. 

One minute he's dreaming, and the next he's being pulled awake by cries so pained Louis' almost sure he's still dreaming, that they can't actually belong to someone. They do, though, and they belong to Harry, who's curled up in bed, knees pulled into his chest as he cries and cries and cries. 

Louis sits up slowly, not wanting to alert Harry if he's not still sleeping. He's awake, Louis quickly realizes once his eyes adjust to the dark. Harry's eyes are wide open in fear, and he’s biting down on his sweater in a failed attempt to be quiet. 

"Harry," Louis whispers, and Harry flinches. For some stupid, sleep-deprived inducing reason, Louis reaches forward and grabs Harry's ankle, and Harry immediately kicks him off and shoots straight up in bed, getting away from Louis, away from the unwelcomed touch. 

"Don't _ touch _ me," Harry cries out, almost shouts. He looks frantic, his eyes wide and body shaking. He lets out another painful sob as he pulls his knees to his chest. He's crying and crying and crying, and Louis has no idea what to do. He's pretty sure he's never seen Harry look so scared, and he has no idea how to handle it. He can't touch, and he's pretty sure Harry had a nightmare, but he doesn't know what it was about, so he can't exactly help with it. 

He takes a deep breath. "It was just a dream, Harry. It's not real." He does his best to sound soothing and trusting, but it doesn't work. Harry still looks terrified. 

"Yes it  _ is _ ," he cries. His hands go to his hair and he tugs, hard. Louis winces. Harry continues to cry. 

"It's not, H, it's -- "

Harry shakes his head frantically. "Yes it  _ is _ , yes it  _ is _ , it's -- it -- it _ was _ , it was real, I don't -- " he sucks in a shaky breath, "it happened, it was real, it -- "

Thankfully, the door opens and in comes a sleepy looking Anne. She turns on the light, blinding Louis momentarily, and crosses the room to sit on the edge of Harry's bed. "Baby," she murmurs tiredly. "Did you have another bad dream?"

Harry looks furious. "It wasn't a  _ dream, _ stop saying that, it happened, it -- it was real, it -- " He's shouting, and still, Anne keeps her composure calm. 

"It might've happened, baby, but it was still just a dream. You're here, in your bed, with me and Louis and Robin." Louis jolts when she says his name, like he's being reminded he's here. "You're home, sweetheart. You're safe. You're not there, with them. You're safe. So it's not real, and it was just a dream, okay?"

It's helping, Louis can literally see it. Harry's coming down from his panic, listening to his mother's words like they're the only thing in the entire world. His shoulders loosen a bit, his breathing becomes calmer and calmer, and his hands release themselves from fists. 

"But it happened," he whimpers out. "It  _ felt _ real. I could feel it, could feel them hurting me all over again."

Anne frowns deeply. "Is this the same dream you had last night?"

Harry nods, looking distraught. 

"I thought talking them out made them stop," she says, sounding concerned. Louis feels so useless. 

Harry sniffles. "It usually does. That's the only reason why I tell you about them." His eyes flicker over to Louis, and Louis feels small. He's eyes go back down to his laps, and he lets out another small cry. "I'm not going back to sleep if it's just going to keep happening, I'm not, I'm -- "

"Shh, honey, it's okay," Anne tries, and Harry ignores her. 

"I don't  _ feel _ safe," he cries. He's getting worked up all over again. "There's so many of them, Mom, and they probably know where I am, where I live, and they're going to get mad at me for talking to the police, they're," he hiccups, "they're going to hurt me all over again."

"Baby -- "

"I told you I didn't want to talk to the cops. Now they're going to find me and they're going to hurt me again, they're going to -- " he cuts himself off, and Louis' guiltily thankful Harry can't finish that sentence. 

Anne sighs and scoots up a bit in bed, although she must sense Harry doesn't want her any closer, because she stops. "Are you upset about your dream or this, honey? I can't -- we need to focus and work on one at a time."

Harry closes his eyes. "They didn't like it when I talked," he whispers, and Louis puts together the pieces himself, that Harry -- petrified, starving, abused Harry -- got hurt --  _ punished _ , like he's some kind of animal, for talking back, or something along those lines, and it makes him feel sick. 

Anne keeps her expression steady, although Louis can see a layer of anger underneath. She's probably heard it all from Harry, all the gory details and heartbreaking stories. Louis couldn't handle it, he's pretty sure. He couldn't take doing this every night. 

"I don't care what they liked or didn't like," Anne tells him sternly. "You're here now, honey. They can't hurt you anymore."

Harry opens his eyes. With the light now on, Louis can see just how broken he looks right now. "They're still hurting me, Mom," Harry whispers. "Just look at me."

Anne looks like she's been slapped. "You're nightmares have been getting better. You're physically in a lot better shape than you were, you're -- you haven't been having as many panic attacks. And you're handling your emotions better, you're communicating with us now." She huffs loudly. "Baby, you're getting better. You really are. You can't keep letting your bad days defeat you."

Harry scoffs sadly. "I've been having 'bad days' for, like, two weeks now. Maybe longer."

"They're not all bad, though. You have some good days still in between the bad ones. You didn't use to have them at all."

Harry doesn't say anything, and Anne reaches over and grabs her hand. From the look on her face, Louis can tell she knows it's risky right now, and she doesn't look surprised when Harry pushes her off and bundles his fists in his lap like he's hiding them. She still looks hurt, though. 

"So you've hit somewhat of a rough patch, Harry. It's not the end of the world."

"I know it's not." He sounds defensive. "But this is the second night in a row where I had a nightmare, and it's draining me. I sleep when things get too hard for me to handle, or when I get frustrated, and I -- it's my coping mechanism or whatever, and I don't know how much longer I can take with not being able to sleep properly."

To some, Harry might sound like he's being over dramatic, but Louis understands it. Harry likes his sleep. He likes being left alone for a few hours in the safety of his bedroom. He likes thinking of anything else in the form of dreams, and when he's being chased by his past in his comfort zone, of course he's going to be upset. 

Anne opens her mouth to say something, and Harry shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. About my stupid dream or the cops or any of it, I just -- "  _ want to go to sleep _ , he wants to say, but doesn't. Louis can't help but feel like maybe he doesn't want to talk because he's here, so he clears his throat. His head is whirling, all of this too much to take in. 

"I'm gonna go get some water, okay?"

Harry frowns. "You don't have to go."

Anne nods at him, though, and he knows that he was right about Harry wanting some privacy. He smiles softly at Harry, and it comes out flimsy. He grabs his phone and leaves quickly. Maybe he should feel some shame for not wanting to hear about that, but he doesn't. He can't. It's too much.

He goes to the kitchen to get some water, and Robin's sitting at the kitchen table, petting Penny's fur, who's sitting on the table. She must've been spooked by all the noise Harry was making. Robin looks exhausted, and Louis doesn't blame him. They all turned in around one, and it's only three, each of them only getting two hours of sleep. For Anne and Harry, it might not be too awful, but Louis and Robin have to work all day, and it's going to kill them both. It's going to be the second day in a row where Louis shows up to work exhausted. 

They don't say anything to one another for a long time. Louis sits across from him at the table after getting a glass of water. At one point, they can hear Harry shout something incoherent, but Anne's stern,  _ don't yell at me  _ is clear. It's a few minutes after that when Louis finally voices what he's wanted to the entire time he's been sitting here. 

"How bad are his nightmares, then?" he asks, and he doesn't mean for his tone to sound so short.

Robin doesn't look at him and shrugs slightly. "It just depends on the night." He pauses, and for a second, Louis thinks he's going to stop there and Louis' going to have to prod, but he continues. "Sometimes they're worse than this. Sometimes they aren't. About half the time, he doesn't really remember what his dreams are about, he just knows that it was about. . . that. He just gets a feeling, or something."

Louis nods. There isn't anything else to do or say. Robin told him what he wanted to know, and Louis isn't sure he wants any other details, especially after getting a close up of Harry's nightmares tonight. He can't imagine how it can get worse than him crying so hard that it woke him up, but then he remembers that time Anne told him Harry woke up screaming. And yeah, he's extremely glad that didn't happen tonight. He wants to leave the sound of Harry's screams up to his own imagination. 

Anne comes into the kitchen a few minutes later, and she looks just as tired as the two of them. Robin squeezes her hand when she comes close enough. 

"He wants you to come back to bed, Louis," she says. "He's fine. He just gets a little worked up when he has a bad dream, but he should be fine now. I don't know if he'll go back to sleep, but. I think he wants your company." She smiles down at the cat on the table. "And hers."

Louis nods and stands. He scoops up Penny, who doesn't kick or scratch at him like Ellie might. Ellie is a nice, good pet, she is, but she lets it be known when she wants to be left alone, which Louis can respect. 

"Turn on a movie for him, please," she says as he leaves, and he tells her he will before walking back to Harry's room. Harry's sitting up in bed, the covers now wrapped around his shoulders and a stuffed bear sat next to him. It's the bear Louis won for him at a carnival on their first date, he realizes, and it makes him more sad than it makes him happy. 

"I brought your friend," Louis says quietly when Harry looks at him. He sets Penny down on the bed, and she makes herself comfortable near Harry's legs. Harry smiles appreciatively at him. 

"Thanks." He leans forward to grab the bear next to him and waves it a little at Louis. "This is my mom's attempt at a substitute for Penny." He sounds light-hearted, like he's trying not to take the bear too seriously, but the way his fingers pet over his ear suggests otherwise. 

"That things, like, ten times older than Penny," Louis points out as he walks towards his makeshift bed. He sits down and grabs the remote off of Harry's bedside table. He clicks on the TV and Netflix's selection pops up, because the only thing Harry ever really watches is on Netflix. He clicks on Harry's account and scrolls through the selection, quietly trying to find something that'll occupy Harry while Louis tries to sleep for at least a little bit longer. 

"Will you please come up here with me?" Harry asks as Louis clicks through the comedy section, although he still isn't sure that's a great genre to pick for Harry. Comedy movies have unnecessary sex scenes that can sometimes get a little too graphic for humor, and he's not sure of Harry's level of comfort with that. 

He gets distracted by Harry's question. He knows Harry's referring to his bed, but Harry explicitly told Louis that he wasn't comfortable with Louis sleeping in his bed, so Louis doesn't even think on it. "No, H. I'm fine, I told you."

"I don't care if you're fine, I want you next to me. I promise it won't make me uncomfortable." Louis glances at him, unsure. Harry, who now has the bear tucked under his arm, smiles at little at him. "I told you before that it made me uncomfortable, didn't I? And you trusted me then, and now I'm telling you it won't, so just trust me. Please."

It's a good argument, Louis' not going to lie. It puts Louis in the position where if he tells Harry no again, it's making it seem like he doesn't trust him, which -- of course he does, and of course he doesn't want Harry thinking differently, so he cautiously grabs the pillow and blanket Anne gave him and sets it on Harry's bed. Harry looks victorious, and Louis tries not to look so apprehensive. 

"Please let me know if at any point it goes back to making you uncomfortable," Louis asks, and Harry nods. 

"I will, Lou. Now just lay down and go back to sleep. Watch out for Penny."

Louis rolls his eyes fondly -- Penny's not this teeny kitten anymore -- but he makes sure he doesn't knock her with his feet or anything. He lays down next to Harry so a couple feet are between them. Harry doesn't say anything, so Louis' assuming it's the right move. 

He ends up turning on  _ Lilo & Stitch _ , and again, he takes Harry’s silence as acceptance. Still, he stays awake for fifteen minutes to watch Harry to make sure he's okay with everything. When Harry smiles at the TV at something Lilo says, he takes it as a sign of temporary serenity. 

"Night, Haz," Louis murmurs. "Wake me up if you need anything."

Harry nods at him before getting up to turn the light off. Louis wants to tell him he didn't have to do that, but he's kind of glad he did. Harry slides back into bed and looks down at him and whispers goodnight. 

The next morning, he wakes to the blaring noise of his alarm. It seems more aggressive than normal, and he sits up quickly to turn it off so it doesn't wake Harry. His right hand is being held tightly by Harry, he realizes. It's tight enough for Louis to know that one of them didn't do it while they were asleep; Harry must've interlocked their hands before he fell asleep. 

With his left hand, Louis turns his alarm off. Thankfully, it doesn't wake Harry. What does, though, is Louis gently removing his hand from Harry's. Harry tucks his hand into his chest, like he's protecting it. He blinks tiredly at Louis, processing the situation.

"Bye, Lou," he mumbles, turning his face into his pillow. He's probably not entirely awake right now, so Louis doesn't respond and slips out of his room carefully. He tiptoes out of the house and somehow manages not to wake anybody. He doesn't drive right away since he's still not completely awake, and takes the time to text Nick. South Africa is six hours ahead of New York, so it's almost noon where Nick is.

Nick doesn't text back within five minutes, meaning he's most likely in a meeting. Louis hasn't figured out a good time for Nick to call every day, and he's not exactly up for doing that math in his head at the moment, so he puts his phone down and tells himself he'll figure it out later. 

As promised, Harry tends to stick around at Louis' house a lot more. 

At first, the change was gradual. The first week, Harry had stuck to their Tuesdays and Sundays, but the second week Harry came by unannounced on a Thursday. He stayed at Louis' almost all night, and returned on Friday. It's Saturday of the second week of Nick being gone, and Harry's due to be here any minute again. 

Louis absolutely enjoys his company. Anne called this morning to make sure Harry wasn't being too invasive or anything, and Louis immediately told her he enjoyed him being around so much. He does. He really, really does. 

Harry knocks on his door at ten in the morning, and both of them grin when Louis opens the door. 

"Mom says I have to be home by four," Harry tells him as he takes off his shoes. "I have a doctor's appointment at four-thirty."

Louis nods. "Everything okay?"

It's Harry's turn to nod. He kneels down to pet Moose and looks up at him. "It's just a check up,” he says. “It's not even required by my doctor, my mom's just paranoid I haven't gained enough weight back still."

Louis' no doctor, but he looks fine to him. He's still maybe fifteen to twenty pounds off of what he weighed before everything, but a lot of that's due to muscle loss. Harry used to work out a decent amount, and now he hasn't gone to the gym in over six years. 

Still, if Anne thinks it's something that could still be of concern, then Louis' going to be concerned. It's how they operate. 

They spend an hour or two playing _ Sorry! _ , and then they kill another hour by watching TV. It's around two when Harry nudges him in the thigh with his toes. Louis looks at him, and Harry has a determined look on his face. 

"We should take Moose on a walk," he says, almost demands. Louis raises his eyebrows at him. He already took Moose for a walk before Harry got here, but if Harry's up for it, Moose can easily be persuaded into another one. 

"If you want, we can do that." He wants to know where this is coming from, though. Most of the time, they stay inside playing board games or doing puzzles. Occasionally, they'll venture out into the backyard with Moose or to just soak in the sun, but they haven't gone off of Louis' property together yet. It seems like a huge step, one that Louis was sure would take another few weeks to get to. 

Harry seems to catch on to what he's thinking. "My mom wants me to start going out more," he starts. "We've made it a goal for me to go out with her at least once by the end of the month, and that's already two weeks away. I've chickened out a few times already. And it doesn't make sense, because I can go to the doctors with her without any issues now, but I can't do this, I know that it doesn't, but." He sighs. "I don't want to disappoint her by not being able to go out, so I've got to start somewhere. Going around the block with you and an intimidating dog seems like a good first step."

Louis knows there's other things to react to in that -- pride, mostly, because he hasn't heard Harry sound this strong and determined in a long time -- but, "Haz, my dog is  _ not _ intimidating."

He shrugs. "I don't know. I'd think twice about kidnapping someone with a Boxer."

Louis wants to try and defend Moose a little more -- he's only sixty pounds, he's incapable of going out on a walk without his tongue sticking out of his mouth the entire time, and he's not super muscular -- although he realizes that it's probably not the time to do so.

"You're not going to get kidnapped," he says softly. "Without Moose or with, you're not."

Harry glances down at his lap. He doesn't look so strong anymore. "You can't promise me that."

"I can," Louis denies immediately. Logically, he knows maybe that’s not the truth, but it doesn't matter. The truth doesn't matter right now. He sits up straighter and grabs Harry's knee. Harry doesn't flinch, for once. "If you think I'd let you get away from me ever again, then you don't know me very well."

Harry puts his hand on top of Louis' before he leans forward and hugs him. Louis hugs him back with a smile. He reminds himself that this is a really good day, and that Harry's probably not going to be this happy tomorrow, but he’s just glad Harry's decided to spend this good of a day with him.

At the corner of Louis' street, a car drives by and Harry's hand darts out for Louis'. Louis squeezes his hand and glances at him nervously, but he seems okay. Harry's been staring down at the ground for the entire time so far, and he hasn't talked at all, and none of that matters because Harry's breaths are still even and he hasn't begged Louis to turn around yet. Maybe this can't all be blamed on a good day, maybe this is just growth. 

His grip loosens once the car is gone, although he doesn't pull away. They turn the corner, and that's when Harry randomly asks, "Do you think I need a therapist?" At the same time, Moose jerks forward, which acts as a good distraction as he tries to come up with a good answer. 

"Yes," he says after he gets Moose to walk by his side again. He does, tongue waving about. "I think you've progressed tremendously, but I think there's more growth that can happen within you. A therapist could help with that, I think."

Harry doesn't look up from the ground. "My mom brought it up again the other day. I told her I'd think about it."

"You should. I've been meaning to research different types of therapy for you, but I keep forgetting." He squeezes Harry's hand again, a silent apology. 

"My mom said she'll look into at-home counselling, if that's something I want to try instead of going to an office." He sounds a little apprehensive, and Louis really wishes he would've waited to have this discussion back at home where Louis could observe Harry's body language better. "It's more expensive though, and, like. Maybe forcing me out of the house isn't a bad idea."

It sounds like a bad idea to Louis, but of course he isn't going to say that out loud if Harry genuinely is willing to give it a try. A therapist coming to him seems more realistic. Like how Detective Winston came to Harry for answers. 

Louis doesn't realize he hasn't responded until it's been too long for it not to be weird if he does, so he doesn't. They walk around the block two more times in silence before Louis decides to head back home. Harry doesn't object, so they do. 

Anne picks him up shortly after. About an hour later, he gets a text from Harry saying that his check-up went well and that the doctor said he could probably benefit from gaining a little more weight, but he was no longer unhealthily skinny. He's about to text Harry back when Nick's call comes through, and he doesn't mean to, but he frowns.

Liam calls him during his lunch break the following day.

For a full minute, Louis considers not answering. There's no real reason as to why except he doesn't feel like putting forth the effort a phone call requires. Eventually, he answers. It's the first time Liam's called since the baby came, meaning it's been a few weeks, and he'd be a shitty friend if he didn't answer. 

They exchange hellos and, inevitably, Liam quickly slips into talking about his son. Liam goes on and on about how Elijah is a little small for a newborn, though healthy, and all the clothes they bought him are just a tad too big for him and it's stupidly adorable. He talks about how him and his wife, Jillian, haven't gotten more than two hours of sleep at time since Elijah's been born, about how Jillian hates changing diapers so she makes Liam do it, and about how fun bath time is. It's almost like Liam forgets that Louis' there and his brain is just drifting, which probably has something to do with those two hours of sleep he was talking about. It's okay -- Louis doesn't mind -- but he won't say he it's relieved when Liam finally gets to the point. 

"I want you to meet him," he says finally. "Niall and Zayn came around yesterday, and it went well, so I want you and Harry to finally meet him."

Louis smiles warmly. "Yeah, Liam. I'd love to. I can swing by whenever after work, so just tell me when's good and -- "

"I want you to come with Harry," he interrupts. "Like, I want you and him to meet Elijah together. If that's okay."

He furrows his eyebrows, kind of confused. Liam sounds sort of guilty, and if he's trying to use Louis as some sort of a buffer so he doesn't have to talk to Harry as much, that's -- 

Liam continues. "I haven't seen him nearly enough since he's been back. I know that. It's just -- with Jill being pregnant, and now Elijah's here. . . There's not been a lot of time. And I want him to feel included in my life. In Elijah's life, too. And I talked to Anne about it, and she said that you, like. Calm him down, and that it'd be a good idea to have you two come together."

"Okay," Louis agrees easily. He always thinks the worst in people when it comes to Harry. "Sounds like a plan."

"Nick can come too, of course," Liam says, and it sends a pang of hurt through Louis' heart. Mostly because he misses Nick, but also because it shows how disconnected him and his friends have been lately. 

"Nick's on a work trip," he tells him, and he tries to keep the hurt out of his voice, he does, and it doesn't really work. Before Liam can stupidly apologize or say something that doesn't help Louis' situation at all, Louis says, "Just text me what day works best for you. Harry's free pretty much whenever, and so am I outside of work."

"Okay, Lou. Sounds good."

Louis nods to himself. It does sound good; he wants to meet little Elijah so badly, and he also hasn't seen Jillian it what feels like forever. "Do you know if Anne has talked to Harry about it yet?"

"She told me she was going to hold off on asking him about it until you agreed."

"Okay, thanks. I'll talk to you later, Li."

Liam agrees, and then Louis says goodbye and hangs up. He texts Anne that he's up to it, and then puts his phone down to close his eyes. He spends his lunch breaks in his car, and he only has about ten minutes left. He's going to use every last minute of it to relax. 

Liam's house becomes the destination of Harry's goal of getting out of the house by the end of the month. Anne told him that she had hoped when she set that goal that it'd mean going out to the grocery store, or to the movies, or out for ice cream. Something small. Taking Harry to a new house that one of his best friends live in with his unfamiliar wife and son isn't starting off small, not by any means. Louis knows this, and so does Anne, and they're both very hesitant on telling Harry about the invitation, but surprisingly enough, Harry's _ excited _ . 

It's not all excitement, of course. It's not how Harry works anymore, things can't be  _ just _ good, they have to come with a catch. Like the way Harry's nails dig into Louis' arm and his hands are clammy and he's wandering off in his head, getting distracted easily.

Still, he's not as nervous on the car ride to Liam's as he was to Gemma's. He's letting Louis take care of him, letting him distract him, so Louis' beyond happy, even if there are marks imprinted on his skin in the shapes of half moons. 

"It's your turn," Harry murmurs, handing Louis phone back. This time, they've taken precautions: Louis created a playlist of Harry's favorite music that's currently playing on the radio from Anne's phone, and he's downloaded some stupid app on called Crossy Road on his phone that have him and Harry going back and forth, trying to beat each other. Louis' a lot better than Harry is, though neither of them point that out. 

Louis plays, and he manages to get the chicken to take ninety-eight steps before he gets hit by a truck. Harry's high score is currently thirty. While Louis plays, Harry's hand comes back up to his forearm, and like always, it starts off as Harry just holding him, and slowly but surely, his nails sink in. Louis' not sure he realizes he's doing it. 

"Your turn," Louis says, giving him the phone back. Harry gets five steps in before falling in the water, and Louis tries hard not to laugh at the way Harry pouts, he does, but it's too cute to ignore. Harry shoves him and laughs a little himself. 

As they walk up to Liam's house, Harry tucks his hand into Louis'. He walks closely to him, their bodies brushing one another frequently. Anne asks Harry one last time if he's okay at the door, and when Harry nods 'yes', she knocks on the door. 

Harry shrinks into him as soon as the door opens. He's still clutching onto his hand, and he smiles stiffly at Jillian as she tells them to come in, but his anxiety levels just shot up about a few hundred points. Nobody mentions the way Harry stays plastered to Louis' side the entire time. 

Liam emerges from wherever he was to greet them all. He comes with a plate of cracker sandwiches and places it at the coffee table in front of the sofa they're all sat in, to which Louis snorts at. 

"You don't need to impress us, Liam," he teases, and Liam scowls at him. He looks exhausted. They both do, Louis realizes when he takes another glance at Jillian. Babies are difficult, Louis knows that very well. There was almost always a baby wailing somewhere in the house until he moved out of his mom's home. 

"Elijah just woke up from his nap," Jillian explains, "so we're giving him a few minutes to wake up fully. He gets cranky if you disturb him too soon."

Anne takes this as her cue to start conversation so there's no slightly awkward stretch of silence. She talks about how what a wonderful baby Harry was, and how much a relief it was because Gemma was an absolute monster as a baby. Harry laughs quietly at that. 

Louis kind of zones out as Jillian talks about the whole birth thing, because that's something he really doesn't want the details on. He mostly focuses on the way Harry slowly melts into his side more and more. First, he was only leaning his weight on him, but now Harry's ankle is hooked with Louis' and his head is resting against Louis' shoulder. Liam keeps looking at them weird, and Louis knows that it's completely warranted. Louis' engaged to a person who isn't Harry, and, mixed with their history, them cuddling up like this isn't exactly platonic. But Harry's nervous, and he's letting Louis soothe that, so really, Louis' not going to do anything about him being so touchy. There was a point in life that Louis was afraid Harry was never going to allow him to touch him again, and he's not going to take it for granted, even if that means getting confused stares from Liam. 

He leaves it at that in his head.

"I'm gonna go grab Elijah," Liam says finally, and before he goes, he kisses the side of Jillian's head. He's built a happy little family for himself, and Louis couldn't be more happy for him. 

When he returns, it's with a tiny, sleepy baby. Elijah's dressed in a light orange onesie with cute little buttons. His sleeves are rolled up a little, and yeah, Liam was right: he is pretty small. Healthy looking and fully developed -- Jillian didn't have him prematurely -- but small. A tiny little angel. 

God, babies get to Louis. They make him all emotional and tingly inside, with their tiny baby fingers and toes, and their cute little faces. Elijah's got a grasp on Liam's finger, just holding it, and it makes Louis all warm inside. 

Anne immediately stretches her arms out to hold him; it looks almost like an instinct for her. Liam willingly gives him to her, and Harry leaves his side to scoot closer to his mom to see Elijah closer. Elijah hiccups a little, clearly a little fussy from being in a stranger's arms, although he doesn't cry. He lets Anne coo at him and rock him back and forth gently, and he lets Harry take his little hand in his own larger one. 

Louis' heart already feels like it can burst at any minute, but when Anne asks Harry if he wants to hold him and he says yes, Louis knows it's about to get a whole lot worse. And he's right: once Harry has Elijah settled in his arms with Anne's instructions and Liam lingering in front of him, Louis' heart nearly explodes. Harry's just so gentle, is the thing. Gentle giant. He looks so worried and concerned, and he doesn't take his eyes off of Elijah for even a second. 

"He's perfect," he says, his naturally low voice sounding even deeper. He smiles a little at Elijah, who's just staring up at him with his bright blue eyes. 

"Yeah, he is," Liam agrees, sitting down on the coffee table. Louis leans into Harry so he can look at Elijah better, to see the way his nose curves like Jillian's and how his face shape matches Liam's almost identically. He's a little fuse of them, a little fuse of their love, and really, it _ is  _ perfect. 

Jillian smiles from where she's standing a little further away. "Elijah Edward Payne," she says softly, her lips curling into a smile. At first all Louis is thinking about is Elijah's perfect little nose and his cute little eyes, and then her words finally sink in. Elijah Edward Payne. Edward. He glances up at Liam, confused. Edward as in Harry Edward Styles? It seems far-fetched at first, that in reality, it just so happened because Edward is a popular middle name, and not because it's the middle name of one of his best friends. But with the way Liam's smiling at him, Louis knows it's no coincidence. Liam went ahead and named his son after Harry, and that's just -- insane. Amazing and sweet, but also insane. 

Anne looks as equally surprised, while Harry's just staring down at Elijah like he's not even tuned into what's going around him. There's no way he didn't hear them, but maybe he just hasn't put it together yet, or maybe he's not letting himself. 

Nobody says anything until Harry looks up slightly. Not at Liam, or Jillian, or anyone, just away from Elijah for the moment. "You mean, Edward, like. . . " He does look at Liam then. "Edward like me?"

Liam nods, smile widening. "Yes. Edward like you."

Harry immediately looks back down at the baby, and Louis knows his brain is a whirl of confusion and panic. Louis reaches forward and sets a hopefully steadying hand on his arm. 

"I'm not, like, special," Harry says quietly, his voice slightly muffled since he's looking down. "I'm not -- I haven't done anything important. I'm -- _ I'm _ not important, I don't understand why you'd -- " he cuts himself off and shakes his head. Louis tightens his hold on his arm. 

Jillian moves to sit down on the table next to Liam, and Louis wants to mention the fact that there's a perfectly good, unused seat right across from them, and that them crowding around Harry probably isn't helping him try and clear his head, but he doesn't. Jillian smiles at Harry, even though Harry's not looking at her to see it. 

"We named Elijah after my dad, who passed away from cancer when I was young," she starts. "So we already had agreed on that as a name, way before I even got pregnant. The early months we kept tossing middle names back and forth, and Liam -- both of us, actually kept going back to you. You weren't back yet, and we wanted to do something that would, like, kept your memory alive, I suppose. Because even if I never got to meet you before, I knew how good of a person you were. I knew that you were kind and generous and smart.  _ Important _ ," she punctuates that word purposefully. "Liam talked about you a lot, and so did your friends whenever they came by. I knew I wouldn't be making a mistake in naming him after you."

Liam nods. "And Harry wasn't a very good middle name -- no offence -- so we moved to Edward, and it just. . . fit. It fit him, even though we didn't know he was a him at the time."

Harry's fingers move to stroke Elijah's arm, though he doesn't say anything yet. 

"We want our son to be strong," Jillian continues. "Strong and intelligent and  _ special _ . And we couldn't think of a stronger, more intelligent person than you. And we just knew it was right, even more than we already knew, when we heard that you'd made it back."

Louis feels overwhelmed, so he can't imagine what Harry's thinking. It goes quiet, Jillian and Liam out of profound things to say, and they all know this is where Harry's supposed to speak, but he doesn't. He just keeps staring down at Elijah and stroking his tiny arm. 

After a minute of silence, Jillian laughs a little awkwardly. "Is that. . . is that alright?"

For a moment, Louis thinks Harry's just going to ignore her again, but it's not what happens. Instead, Harry's head whips up to look at her, eyes wide. "Yes," he breathes out. "Yes, of course. I just -- it's -- " He stops and takes a deep breath. "Thank you," he says finally. "Thank you."

"Seriously," Anne follows him up with. She still looks like she's in shock. "That means a lot to us. To him."

Harry looks at Louis with a mix of adoration and shock. And on instinct, like how Anne reached out for the baby when he first came out and how he teased Liam for no reason easier, Louis leans over and kisses the side of Harry's head, his temple, and rubs at his arm. He realizes what he's done after he's done it, that he's officially crossed a huge, huge line with Nick, the same one he's been ignoring for months now, but the soft smile Harry gives him in return seems worth it, and that's when Louis realizes he has a giant problem to work through: time and time again, he's proved that he can't handle having both, and that's -- his stomach plummets and his hand on Harry's forearm tightens, and he pushes it down because now is not the time. 

Nobody -- not even Liam -- looks at them strangely because of the kiss, because it's instinctual for them, too. Maybe not for Jillian, but for Liam and Anne; they've seen it a thousand times before. 

Louis' brain doesn't exactly stop living in panic-mode until Harry passes Elijah to him a few minutes later. With a small child in his hands, a familiar weight of baby, all his problems melt away. Elijah Edward Payne, his brain keeps supplying, like there's even a possibility of him forgetting that. Elijah Edward Payne, a beautiful little baby with an amazing future and two loving parents. Jillian and Liam will raise a strong, smart, special child, just like they want to, and it's not going to be because they named him after Harry -- although, Louis won't deny it, it helps -- it's going to be because they're amazing themselves. 

When they leave, Harry's hand automatically grabs onto Louis', and the only things he lets himself think about the entire ride home is how beautiful and sweet Elijah is, and how bad Harry is at Crossy Road. By the time Anne drops Louis off, Harry's high score is only forty-two.

He has a mini meltdown about fifteen minutes later. 

It's just -- Ellie's looking at him, stare unwavering and tail flicking at it just freaks him out a little. Not because she's intimidating, but because he feels like she's judging him, somehow, like she's looking at him and thinking how can you do this to us? It was just a kiss on the head, Louis knows he's being ridiculous, but maybe also he's not because he has a fiancé, who has specifically voiced concerns about Harry. And it's not necessarily about what he did; it's more so that as soon as he did it, he didn't care because it made Harry feel good. He completely wrote off how it'd make Nick feel because it benefited Harry, and how could he be a decent, loyal husband if he willingly and automatically puts someone else first? He can't be. But he can't be a good friend to Harry if he completely cuts him off, either, and that's what it would come down to because Louis is seriously incapable of being strictly friendly and platonic with Harry, the same way Harry can't be strictly platonic with him either. 

He doesn't understand how he ended up here. One minute, he was living this happy life with the fiancé he adored, and the next, his best friend was back from the dead, and somehow that lead him to staring at his cat with shaky hands and fears that he's going to have to pick. When he came to see Harry at his house when he was badly depressed, he had believed that Nick wouldn't make him choose, but maybe that's not true anymore. Maybe -- and he wouldn't be out of line if he did -- Nick is going to see that the lines between Louis and Harry are too goddamn blurry and he's going to make him pick. 

Harry wouldn't ask him to choose, couldn’t. He'd be too scared that it'd cost him Louis entirely, so he'd never actually tell Louis it had to be him or Nick. But maybe Nick doesn't have as much to lose, maybe he won't be so scared. As of right now, Nick doesn't know that him and Harry are spending so much time together, or that Louis kissed the side of Harry's head, but that could easily change, and when it does, Louis' screwed. He can't keep living in limbo forever, keep trying to please the both of them. It's not how life works. He's the shitty one in this situation, the one who can't stay loyal to the one who deserves his loyalty, so it's not like he can wait around for something to change, for him to stop feeling this way, because it's him causing all of this chaos in his head. He's the one who's promising Nick that going to South Africa won't be a mistake, and then turning around and holding hands and cuddling up to his ex-boyfriend. And he's also the one not willing to change anything about his relationship with Harry. He's known Harry his entire life, been in love with him for probably half of it. He's been together with Nick for three years, and that type of history can't compete with his and Harry's. 

He's not saying he wants to get back together with Harry, or that he wants to end things with Nick. He's saying the answers to those questions used to be a lot clearer before today. 

It's a few days later and Nick doesn't ask him what he's been up to all day, and it's probably because he knows the answer will involve Harry. And he'd be right: today, Harry came over and they cuddled on the sofa while watching a movie. It was a proper cuddle too, not just Harry resting his head on his Louis' shoulder. Harry was laying between his legs, back against Louis' chest, and their hands rested on top of each other. 

There's two things Louis doesn't know: one, how Harry's gained the confidence and ability to crawl up to Louis and lay himself down on his chest, and two, if it counts as cheating or not. The former is a lot easier to work out in his head -- Harry's progressing in his abilities to handle touch, especially with Louis, and he's been more and more open to being physically close with Louis -- but the latter is deeply troubling. Him and Nick have never explicitly set those types of guidelines with one another, and Louis' never, ever put himself in the position of not being sure, so he has nothing to go off of. The only thing that's making him scared that maybe it kind of is, is the fact he's not willing to mention it to Nick and ask if it's okay. 

"Twenty-four more days to go," Nick murmurs, sounding tired. 

Louis closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He's laying in their bed even though it's only seven o'clock. The sofa makes him feel dirty, remembering the way Harry was so close to him. He has no idea what he's doing. 

"Almost halfway there," Louis says. He should be selfless enough to let Nick go to bed. It's one in the morning where Nick is, since Nick had got stuck late in a meeting and his whole day got pushed back an hour, and by the time he had called Louis, it was already almost midnight for him. But Louis really, really needs to hear his voice right now, to just get lost in him and remember the smart, loving person he's hurting by being so selfish. This way, he can hurt himself enough into stopping it from happening again. Because he knows that he's going to have to put some boundaries between him and Harry after today. He's not sure what those boundaries are going to be, because he can't refuse to hold Harry's hand or hug him, and he's not sure how he's going to be able to do it, but it has to be done. It has to. 

Nick asks him how his mom is doing; Louis says well. Nick has him how his siblings are doing; Louis says that Phoebe and Daisy are dreading going back to school, but other than that, they're all well. Nick asks him how the pets are, how work is, how Liam and the baby are. He doesn't once ask about Harry, or any questions leaving room for Harry to be in the answer. It's the first time Louis notices it, but it won't be the last it happens. 

He's at work the following day when Harry calls him in shambles. There's only fifteen minutes left of his shift when he answers him. It's going to be bad if Harry's calling him while he's at work, he knows that, but it doesn't mean he's not going to answer. 

He listens to Harry cry and sniffle for a solid minute before finally speaking. "Haz? What's going on?"

More cries, and then, "I'm fine. I mean, I'm just -- I'm just upset. Can I come over?"

He doesn't sound exactly fine, but Louis appreciates Harry letting him know that, physically, he's alright. "I'm, um. I'm at work for, like, ten more minutes. I can pick you up on my way home, or you can have your mom drop you off."

"Okay," Harry whispers. "I'm -- my mom can take me. Sorry for calling you at work, I tried waiting, but. . . I'm just really upset, and I needed you." Those last three words are spoken so, so softly that Louis almost doesn't hear them. 

"That's okay. I'm here."

"I'll see you soon," Harry says, and no, Louis wants him to tell him what exactly is going on before he hangs up, but he says, "Bye, Lou," and hangs up anyway. 

Louis sighs. Thirteen minutes until his shift is over, and then he gets back to his place to figure out what the hell is going on now.

Harry and Anne end up beating him home. He's no longer crying as he sits next to his mom on the porch, arms wrapped around her waist and head resting on her shoulder. He looks small like this. He perks up when he sees Louis, though, which is good. Anne says goodbye before leaving, and then Louis' unlocking the front door and Harry follows him inside. 

"You okay?" Louis asks after he pulls off his shoes. He pets Moose hello and walks passed him to go to the fridge to grab a water for Harry and himself. Harry accepts it and takes a sip of it before he replies. 

"Ben stopped by," he murmurs, voice gravelly. Louis distinctly remembers being scolded by Harry for referring to Detective Winston as 'Ben', but here Harry is, coming around and doing the same. 

"Oh," Louis says back, just as quietly. He doesn't know when the last time Ben stopped by was, although he's pretty sure it's been a while. Harry answered the questions Ben had for him, that the lawyers had for him, and that was the extent of their relationship. It's not like they're friends, so if Ben stopped by, that means there's news with the trial. 

Harry doesn't like talking about or hearing about the trial, and neither does Anne, so really, there's no way of Louis to keep up with it. He could harass Ben every day for updates, but that seemed stupid. He knows next to nothing about the law or lawyers or anything like that, and he figured if Anne and Harry didn't want to know, then maybe he shouldn't either. All it would do is upset him, anyway. What he does know, though, is that before the trial started, Harry was declared unfit to stand trial because of his mental state, and he was refusing to talk to the legal people that kept pestering him. It was a huge relief to them all; making Harry go through that seemed cruel. 

"Wanna sit down?"

Harry nods and goes straight for the living room. Louis follows, and he watches as Harry intentionally chooses the chair to sit in instead of the sofa. It's fine, it is, Louis just hopes this isn't a sign of him starting to regress in his progress or anything like that. 

"What'd Ben say?" Louis questions as he sits down. Moose jumps up on the couch next to him and lays his head in his lap, clearly wanting some attention. He pets at his ears and wonders where Ellie is. She's probably laying on his bed. 

Harry looks down and he starts to play with his fingers nervously. Louis frowns. Harry might've came here and brought it up, but maybe he's not ready to talk about it, understandably so, and Louis shouldn't have assumed that it'd be okay to jump right into things. 

"Um," Harry starts. "I guess, like. I guess the trial's officially over." He looks at Louis then, and Louis could be mistaken, but he looks relieved. "He said that they normally don't last this long, but since it involved so many different states and victims, it did."

Louis nods, trying to fake patience. He doesn't care why the trial took so long to play out completely, he wants to know the outcome of it. He wants to hear that every single person they arrested will be thrown in jail for their entire life. Louis has never really been one for the death penalty, but he kind of wishes New York still had it and put it to full use here. 

Harry doesn't say anything more, so Louis prods a bit. "And? Did he say what happened?"

"I didn't want to know how long their sentences are," he mumbles, and he sounds embarrassed. "But Ben said that most of them are going to jail for a very long time, and that the only reasons why some of them aren't going for as long are because they took plea deals."

A very long time. It's not a number, or an idea, but Louis thinks it should be enough to help him sleep at night. "And did you. . . Do you know any of them, like, personally?"

Harry scoffs, and Louis knows immediately he hit a nerve. "Personally," he repeats humorlessly. "Yeah. I guess you can say that. I knew most of them,  _ personally _ ."

In hindsight, it was an insensitive thing to say. 'Personally' doesn't even begin to describe how those people knew Harry, and he shouldn't have said that. Normally he's more careful about how he puts things with Harry, but Harry's been doing so well lately, he's slipped out of practice. 

"I'm sorry," Louis starts, but before he can even finish, Harry interrupts him by shaking his head. He pulls his legs up to his chest and starts to finger at a hole in the knee of his sweats. 

"It's fine," he grumbles. "I'm being irritable, as my mom would put it. Ignore me."

Louis wants to tell him that that's not exactly fair on him. He's not being irritable, he's being human. But saying that might just aggravate him more, so he doesn't say anything. They sit there in silence, doing nothing, for a little while, and Louis can feel the clock moving forward, closer and closer to five, when Nick's supposed to call. It's forty fifty when Harry sniffles, and Louis whips his head up to see that tears have gathered back in his eyes. His head is bowed down, his long, long hair hiding most of his face, but there's no way Louis could miss the wounded look in his eyes. 

Harry gets up and stumbles towards him, barely paying attention to Moose as he sits next to Louis and cries into his side. Moose moves out of the way and Harry makes himself more comfortable, his knees pressed against Louis' thigh. 

"It's okay, Harry," Louis murmurs. He doesn't know what to say, really, doesn't know what's exactly the matter. Harry just burrows into him further and Louis wraps his arms around him, keeps him close. 

"They hurt me so bad, Lou," he cries. He's not full-blown sobbing yet, but he's crying pretty hard. "I didn't even  _ do  _ anything to  _ deserve _ it, it's so  _ stupid _ . So unfair, God."

Louis rubs his back, hopefully soothingly. "You're right, H. You didn't. None of this is your fault."

He sniffles again, but the tears are mostly over. It's easier now, for the tears to stop, although it isn't any less easy for them to start. It's like behind is eyes, there's a leaky, malfunctioning faucet. 

"Can I stay here tonight?" Harry asks, sitting up and wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Louis must make a face, because Harry huffs out a lifeless laugh. "I promise I won't freak out like I did last time. Well, I can't promise that, but I can try."

He should probably say no. Tomorrow's Tuesday, so it's not like work is a problem, but he still feels like he should say no. 

He doesn't. 

"Of course," Louis allows. "So long as your mom's okay with it. And if it's alright if I call Nick back right now, because it's past five and I know he's called by now." It's only two minutes after five, but Nick's rarely ever late with his calls. They're important to him, as they are for Louis, so he can't miss his calls this time around as much as he did last time. 

There's a lining of ice to the smile Harry gives him. "Yeah, okay. I'll call my mom while you talk to Nick."

Louis nods and stands, grabs his phone out of his back pocket. Sure enough, Nick's called. A text from him that reads  _ seriously lou :( _ appears above his missed call, and Louis quickly calls him back. Before he leaves for his bedroom for some privacy, Harry's smile turns more warm. 

"Tell Nick I said hi," he murmurs, sounding kind of shy. Louis wordlessly nods and smiles back at him, and then Nick's answering the call. 

"Hey, baby," Louis mumbles quietly into the phone, still not in the safety of their bedroom. Once he finally is, he closes the door and sits next to Ellie on the bed. She makes a sort of grunting noise at him, and he scratches at her head. 

"Hi," Nick says back. He sounds a little grumpy. "Thought you weren't gonna call me back."

"Well, I'm full of surprises then, I guess."

Nick laughs quietly. "You always have been."

"How was your day?"

"Long and shitty and tiring." He's so stressed out, Louis can hear it in his voice. He rarely, if ever, has sounded so defeated before. There's a short stretch of silence before, "I really think this is my last time doing this crap."

Louis' heart swoops in his chest. He can't work out if it's a good or bad swoop yet. "Really? Why do you say that?"

"'Cause I'm sick of it," Nick replies dryly. "I'm sick of being overworked, and I'm sick of being in foreign countries, and I'm sick of feeling like I'm the one ruining our relationship by being away so much, when I know it's not my fault." He gives Louis no time in defending himself before quickly moving passed that point and on to a new one. "I mean, it's not like I was planning on doing this my entire life, anyway. I'm thirty-five; I thought I'd have kids by now. I thought I'd be married by now, which I would be, if my fiancé didn't completely stop discussing wedding plans with me as soon as his ex-boyfriend came back from the dead."

"Okay, wait. Hold on. We  _ both  _ agreed to wait on actually getting married since we got engaged so quickly."

"It's almost been two years, Louis."

"That's not a long fucking time, Nick! And I haven't heard you rushing to make wedding plans either. All you do is leave, or complain about me having other friends when you're actually home."

Nick laughs cruelly. "I don't have a problem with you having friends, Louis, I have a problem with  _ him _ . With how you treat him like he's this, this dainty little princess that needs your saving. He doesn't. I feel bad for the kid, yes, but he's not yours to save."

Louis' jaw clenches. "He's not a fucking kid. I told you to quiet calling him that."

"Oh my God," Nick groans, sounding on the edge of hysterical. "I don't know why we keep having this fight. We shouldn't be. I've let you know multiple times that I don't trust him, okay, and I don't want you to suddenly stop talking to him because of me, but I want you to respect me enough to set boundaries with him on your own."

Louis head feels dizzy at the sudden change of pace. This feels personal now. "I do have boundaries with him," he objects. "Maybe they aren't up to your standards, but how the fuck would I know, considering you just expect me to know without you telling me, and -- "

"Tell me he's not at ours right now and I'll drop it," Nick hisses, tone cone. Louis bristles. The moment of hesitation is enough for Nick. "Exactly, Louis. He's always at ours, and if he's not, you're at his. You know I don't have a problem with you having friends. You know that. But I can't even remember when's the last time you've had a friend over that wasn't him since he's been back."

Louis closes his eyes and lays back in bed. "Zayn was over a few -- "

"Please stop," Nick whispers, voice hoarse. "Please, Lou. Can we please just stop this? I love you. I'm in love with you. And our relationship used to feel unbreakable to me, and now it doesn't. It feels like it's slipping through my fingers, and he's the one yanking it away. I don't know when or how to bring it up because you haven't actually done anything wrong yet, but I -- don't make me look like an idiot by cheating on me. Please. That's all I ask. Don't make me look like a lovesick loser too blinded by his own heart that he can't see what's right in front of him."

"I would never cheat on you, Nick, Jesus." 

What he did wasn't cheating, he's sure of it now. It was crossing a line, but it wasn't cheating. He wouldn't do that to Nick. 

"You say all the right things," Nick murmurs. "I just don't know if I should believe it anymore. I feel like an idiot."

"Please don't," Louis begs, heart bleeding. "Please don't quit your job for me; you love your job. Please don't waste your time over there being miserable 'cause you feel like you can't trust me. I promise you, Nick. I love you. I'm with you. I'm going to marry you. Eventually. I'm. . . I'm really sorry that you feel, like, threatened by him? Or that I've let you believe you should be? But he's just. A really close friend of mine, okay? I love him to death, and I always will, but not like I love you."

"Lou. . ."

"He's been back nearly seven months, Nick. If I was going to leave you for him, I would've done it by now. But I'm not, because I love you. We can go to Vegas and get married the minute you get back if you want. I don't necessarily want that, but if it'd prove to you that I'm with you in this, I'd do it."

"Okay," Nick mumbles. He doesn't sound convinced. 

"Okay?" Louis asks, needing him to really mean it. 

"Okay. Yes, okay. I'm sorry."

Louis winces. "Don't apologize, fuck." Nick definitely isn't the one who needs to be apologizing. "Just. . . Can you please stop blowing up on me because of this? I mean, you act like everything is fine one minute, and the next, you’re yelling at me. I deserve at least a forewarning, yeah?"

"Yeah." Nick sighs. "You're right. I'm sorry. Sometimes I just get so wound up in my head, and I just. Need to get it out. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Nick."

"Right, sorry."

They both laugh. 

"I should get going to bed, my love," Nick mumbles, and maybe Louis didn't just fix it after all. Maybe Nick's still upset with him. God, this is exhausting. "It's nothing about this. I'm just really, really tired tonight. I'll talk to you more tomorrow, okay? Maybe we can Skype or something."

"Okay. Sounds good. I'll answer the first time, promise."

"Night, babe."

"Nick, Nick."

Nick's the one to hang up. Louis feels like it was intentional. It's official: he's driven a wedge between them that a few promising words can't fix. Fucking Harry, he thinks, but no. This is his fault. It's his fault he can't keep his hands to himself, his fault he keeps pulling Harry closer and closer and, by doing that, pushing Nick farther and farther away. 

He doesn't let himself take a long time to calm down. One deep breath, then another, then another, and he's fine. He has to be. He can't fix things with Nick when he's on an entirely different continent, and the idea of Harry being alone while upset makes him queasy. He takes another deep breath, pats Ellie one last time, and stands. 

As soon as he pulls the door open, there's a tiny squeak, and Louis' eyes immediately fall on Harry, who's standing there, outside his door, with his pointer finger and thumb pulling at his bottom lip and a box of cake mix tucked against his stomach. He was obviously eavesdropping. At least he has the decency to look guilty about it. 

"Eavesdropping isn't nice, Haz," Louis mumbles tiredly. He shoves his phone in his pocket and grabs the box out of Harry's arm, not too lightly, either, and starts to walk down the stairs. Harry follows close by, his steps sounding louder than Louis'. 

"I wasn't eavesdropping," he lies, and Louis snorts. 

"No? You spend a lot of time outside other people's doors just for fun, then?"

He's not exactly being mean. Short and sarcastic and annoying, yes, but he's making sure to keep his tone light. It wouldn't be fair to take his problems out on Harry. And he's pretty sure being mean to Harry would just make everything worse, and he doesn't want that. 

"I found the cake mix in your cabinet, and I wanted to ask if it was okay if we made it tonight."

Louis gets to the hardwood floor and starts making his way to the kitchen. "That couldn't have waited?" Louis asks, when they get to the kitchen. He pulls out a cake pan from the cabinet and sets it on the counter. They might as well make it now. 

Harry's pouting a little when Louis glances at him. "I heard yelling," he reasons lamely. Louis scoffs. 

"I wasn't being that loud, Harry. If you heard me shout, then it's because you were, you know, listening to me outside my bedroom door."

"Stoooop," Harry groans, sitting at the bar stool at the kitchen island. He plants his elbows on the table and sets his cheek on his hand, heaving loudly. "I'm sorry. I was just. . ." He shrugs. Louis opens the cake mix and pulls out the package before turning the box over so he can read the directions. "I actually did want to ask about the cake. It might've not been the reason I stayed, but." 

"It's fine," Louis mumbles. Harry reaches forward and grabs his hand, probably to get him to stop what he's doing and look at him, but Louis pulls his hand away. It feels all types of wrong and painful, and it only gets worse when he looks over at Harry's hurt expression. "Maybe we should, like. Stop doing that."

Harry drags his hands to his lap, hiding them. "Doing what?"

"Holding hands," Louis mutters, feeling like an asshole. "Cuddling. That type of stuff. Unless you’re upset, maybe we should, like. Not do that anymore."

"Oh." He sounds upset. Let down. Disappointed. "Because of Nick?"

Louis nods grimly. "Yeah. Because of Nick."

"Are you. . . Are you two having problems?"

Louis nods again and grabs three eggs from the fridge. 

"Because of me?"

"No," he says immediately. His default setting his protective mode over Harry, no matter if it's the truth or not. But it is the truth, anyway. It's not him. "It's because of me, I guess. Not you." He grabs a bowl and cracks one of the eggs into it. He throws the shells away and does the same with the other two, and then glances at Harry again. 

He looks devastated. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is drown in a tight line, his shoulders hunched and his eyes sad. "What do you mean it's because of you?"

Louis scratches at the back of his neck. He really, really doesn't want to be talking about this. "We're just having problems, Haz, it's not a big deal."

"How is that  _ your _ fault?"

"You know me," he says, cracking a self-deprecating grin. "I'm shit at communicating, and I pick fights, and I say and do a lot of stupid things. You know how I am."

"That's bullshit," he objects, shaking his head. The lines between his eyebrows grow tighter. "You were always better at talking about how you felt than I was, and yeah, you picked fights sometimes, but usually not without good reason. And you're not stupid, and you don’t do stupid things. So maybe it's him, 'cause that doesn't sound like the you I know at all."

Maybe Louis forgot how protective of Louis Harry always was, too. How he always stole packs of Louis' cigarettes and Louis would find them in the trash days later, how he never let Louis get too drunk at a party, how he would always intervene whenever Louis was starting shit at bars and use his height and build to Louis' advantage. Maybe all that can't be said for the Harry in front of him, but that doesn't mean Harry's stopped wanting to protect him. 

He moves to grab the vegetable oil and a measuring cup. "Maybe I've changed," he mumbles. He measures out the correct amount and pours it in with the eggs. 

"Of course you've changed. It's been six years; it'd be a little concerning if you didn't. But who you are hasn't changed. Like, your morals and your values and your personality. That hasn't changed, not really."

Louis doesn't say anything to that, because really, what is there to say? He knows the problems between him are Nick are his fault, and he knows Harry won't believe for a second that Louis can do bad, so it's pointless. Everything seems pointless right now. Like no matter what he does, he's hurting someone else in the progress. 

Harry grabs his hand again, and this time, Louis doesn't stop him. Harry gets up and comes towards Louis, and then he's bringing him in for a hug. Louis melts into him, his arms going to wrap around his middle and his face resting against his shoulder. Harry's warm around him.

"Are hugs still allowed?" he asks, a little late. Louis laughs quietly into his shirt. 

"Yeah, Haz. Hugs are still allowed."

"Good," Harry says, and he moves Louis back. He grabs the measuring cup from the counter and looks at Louis very seriously. "You're a good person, Louis. You have a good feel for what's best for you, and what's the right thing to do. You haven't lost that." He smiles. "Now move, 'cause you did, like, half of this and I wanna do the rest."

Louis chuckles and moves out of the way, hands up in defense. He watches Harry do the rest as promised, but with each passing second, the happiness is pulled out of him more and more. He doesn't feel like a good person, and that scares him. He's usually not so down about himself like this. He can't help but feel like he's failing Nick, but is it really worth pleasing him when it just feels like he's failing himself, no matter what he does? He doesn't know anymore.

After a long-winded, too complicated conversation about who's sleeping where ("I don't want you sleeping on the chair again, Lou, but I don't want to be alone in the guest bedroom" to which Louis replied, "the guest room has shit AC anyway, and it's kind of weird for you to sleep in me and Nick's bed") they settle on blowing up an air mattress Louis still has from his uni days, for some reason, and sleeping together on that. It's not huge, but it's not small either, and once they get it all set up, there's a good few inches between their bodies. 

Moose lays next to the mattress after Louis sternly tells him once that he's not going to have him popping this thing with his nails, while Ellie lays on Harry's side. First he thinks,  _ traitor _ , and then he realizes that Harry is probably missing Penny severely and Ellie's going to act as a good substitute for her. 

As if Harry can read his mind, he sits up and looks at Louis, a worried expression on his face. "Penny has never, ever gone to bed somewhere that wasn't my room. She doesn't like my parents' bed 'cause it was too tall for her a kitten and she hasn't warmed up to it since."

"Then she'll sleep in your bed, Haz. She'll be fine."

"Yeah, but I won't be there  _ with _ her."

"Love," Louis murmurs, doing his best to sound trustworthy, "she slept without you every day of her life until she came to your hose. She'll be okay for a night."

Harry still looks beyond conflicted, although he drops it and settles back down. His fingers are fidgeting with the top of the blanket he has -- they aren't sharing one, Harry specifically asked for one of his one -- and his biting at his bottom lip, but he doesn't say anything about it again. 

"Turn on a movie until we're ready for bed, please."

Louis nods and does as he's told even though he's exhausted. He's been up since five in the morning, and it's now half past ten. He won't complain, of course, but he can't promise he won't fall asleep halfway through the movie. 

He makes it exactly fourteen minutes into  _ The Princess and the Frog _ when he knows it's going to be impossible to stay up any longer. He doesn't want to fall asleep on Harry without warning, so he nudges him with his socked toes. Harry glances at him, his face partially hidden in the dark, only bits and pieces being illuminated by the television. 

"I think I'm gonna go to sleep. Keep watching the movie if you want, though."

Instantly, Harry shakes his head. "No, 's fine. I can sleep now. You can turn it off."

"You sure?" 

He nods, turning from his back to his side, facing Louis. Those inches between them seem to shrink. A muscle ticks in Harry's jaw, and for a moment, Louis thinks he went to far somehow. 

Harry sets him straight. "You said no holding hands," he says slowly. "But what if, like. What if you just set your hand on top of mine?"

Louis laughs, can't help himself. The movie still plays in the background. 

"I'm not being funny," Harry mumbles, pouting. He puts his right hand in the middle of the space between them, his eyes avoiding Louis'. He licks his lips nervously. "It's not holding hands."

"No," Louis agrees. "It's not."

Slowly, Louis untangles his left hand from the covers and places carefully over Harry's. Even in the dark, the size difference between their hands is almost impossible not to notice. Harry's hand is so large, making Louis' look dainty. 

"The movie's still on," Harry whispers after about a minute. Louis' breath gets caught in his throat, the shift of atmosphere feeling too harsh. 

"It's fine," Louis mumbles, his eyes slipping shut. It doesn't matter; it'll be over in, like, two hours and turn off on it's own. Or, if it doesn't, Louis will probably wake up in the middle of the night and turn it off then. It doesn't matter if the TV plays all night. Nothing can make him take his hand away from Harry's right now. 

At two o'clock, he wakes up to Harry shuffling around on the mattress. He ignores it at first, wanting so badly to sleep some more, but then Harry's standing up, the warmth on Louis' hand lost, and Louis forces himself to open his eyes. 

"Where are you going?" he mumbles, rolling over to try and make out Harry's figure in the dark. He barely can; the TV's now off. 

"Bathroom, sorry."

His voice sounds clear, no tears, no signs of hurt. It's a huge relief. Louis hums and closes his eyes again, mushing his cheek against his pillow. "'s fine."

He drifts back off to sleep only to be awaken again by Harry sliding back into bed next to him. He knows he should probably ask if everything is alright, but he's just so, so tired. . . He just has to trust Harry to wake him up if something's the matter. 

"Are you still awake?" he hears Harry say, and for a terrible minute he wants to pretend he's not. He forces himself to nod, a brief movement. "I can't fall asleep."

Like a switch has been flipped, Louis is a lot more awake, more alert. It's like every time Harry so much as mentions being upset or just not okay, alarms start blaring in his head in panic. He rolls back over to face Harry and sits up on his elbow, trying to blink away the dark. 

"I'm fine, don't worry," Harry grumbles, sounding slightly sassy. "No nightmares, no bad thoughts, no urges to run out and get high." He pauses, and then says, "Well, the last one's always kind of there, but. Whatever. I just can't sleep."

Louis nods, trying to take that in. He gets the feeling that Harry doesn't want to focus on the heroin thing, so he does his best to ignore it. "Anything I can do?"

There's a long pause of Louis staring at Harry and Harry staring up at the ceiling, his back flat on the mattress. He doesn't seem sad or anxious or frustrated, just. . . normal. A normal person having normal sleeping problems. It's unsettling to Louis, almost. 

"My mom usually rubs by back when I can't sleep," he says slowly and so, so carefully. "You don't -- you don't have to. I -- with the whole Nick thing, it's okay, I won't be mad. I'll probably fall asleep in, like, an hour, anyway, you really don't have to. I don't even know why I said that, just forget about it, just -- "

"Harry," Louis says, just as carefully. "You're alright. Turn around."

"You really, really don't have to."

He smiles lightly. "I really, really want to. Now, move over. Come on."

Harry positions himself like he's used to this routine. He thought Harry didn't wake his mom up a lot for this type of this thing, that he usually called Gemma or Louis, but maybe he still goes to his mom more than Louis was aware of. He curls up on his side, facing away from Louis, a pillow hugged tightly to his chest. His broad back is exposed to Louis, and even though it's covered by a shirt, this feels more intimate than anything they've done in a long, long time. 

He's tentative about it at first, just resting his hand against Harry's back. Harry tenses, his whole body going rigid, and Louis doesn't move until he relaxes again. He starts off slowly, just massaging the bottom of his palm into his back lightly, not really doing anything. But when he really begins to feel like Harry's completely comfortable with this, he goes at it a little harder. Not anything to make it hard to sleep, but enough for it to feel good. Relieve some of that stress that he's always lugging around. 

Harry falls asleep after about fifteen minutes of Louis alternating between scratching his nails lightly down Harry's back and rubbing, but Louis doesn't stop until a few minutes after. It's soothing even for him, somehow, and once he stops, his arm aches a little, and he doesn't even care. He falls asleep soon after, the tips of his fingers touching the edge of Harry's shirt. 

For some stupid reason, Harry is up at seven in the morning. 

It's confusing and disorienting, because the last time Anne mentioned anything about it, she said Harry usually sleeps in until ten or eleven. He's being quiet enough in the kitchen, doing whatever it is he's doing, but it wakes Louis anyways. He blinks out the sleep out of his eyes, texts Anne to make sure this doesn't mean anything odd, and plays around on his phone a little until he gets Anne's text back.  _ His sleep pattern rarely stays the same. If he seems like himself, don't worry about it. Glad that everything went okay last night !! _

Louis yawns and sits up. Ellie is still laying in bed with him, but Moose is probably sniffing around Harry's legs, waiting for treats to magically fall. He almost wants to lay back down and go to sleep, and he probably would, if it wasn't for his bladder pulling at him, urging him to get up. 

He sighs and does after petting Ellie. He walks from the living room to the kitchen, sees Harry hunched over the dining room table, working on the puzzle they started yesterday. It's a pain in Louis' ass, and he's glad to see that Harry's got a large chunk of it done. 

"How long have you been awake?" he asks. 

Harry jumps, his body curling in on itself instinctively. Once he sees it’s just Louis, he recovers quickly and relaxes.

"Don't sneak up on me please," he mumbles, shoving his hand back in the puzzle box. "I've been up for, like, forty-five minutes. I let Moose out. He chased after a bird, but he didn't get it."

He sounds and looks normal, aside from the little jolt. Although, if Louis' being honest with himself, that's normal for Harry now. He should've known better, should've introduced his presence in a softer manner. 

"Good. He hasn't had any luck in killing anything, so that's good."

He comes closer and pets at Moose's head before moving to Harry, leaning over his shoulder to get a better look at how much he's completed. About a third of it is completed already, between their work yesterday and Harry's this morning. Almost subconsciously, he rubs at the top of Harry's back. His hair gets in the way of it a little, but it doesn't matter. When Harry glances up at with a shy, confused look, Louis pulls away. 

"I've got to piss," he murmurs, rubbing at his face. He goes, and when he comes back, he works on the puzzle and they make breakfast, and then they finish watching the movie for last night. They get to the ending when Harry admits he already watched the whole thing last night. Louis rolls his eyes fondly, and then they make lunch. They go out and play with Moose, and then come in and play with Ellie. While Louis goes and takes his phone call with Nick, which is kind of short and kind of awkward, Harry makes sugar cookies. Louis' got all types of bakery stuff constantly packed in the cabinets lately because of Harry. He comes back downstairs, and they play Checkers. When they get bored of that, Louis plays FIFA while Harry watches, his toes tucked underneath Louis' thigh. Then they have pizza for dinner, and sugar cookies for dessert. 

It's eight o'clock at night when Louis finally drives Harry back home. Louis' so fucking happy the entire way there, because it finally, finally feels like he's got Harry back.

Before Harry gets out of the car, he looks down at his lap and mumbles, "I'm pretty sure today was one of the best days of my life." 

It feels like an overstatement, like maybe Harry just feels really good and doesn't know how to put it into words. But the grateful, blinding smile he gets from Harry makes him believe that maybe he's really telling the truth. 

All Louis can think about the entire way home is when he can see Harry next. The next day after work, he's at the grocery store, picking through the baking isle and buying a bunch of things him and Harry can test out together. Cake Pops, red velvet cookies, sprinkles that are on the verge of looking like rhinestones that cost way too much. He's distracted the entire time he's on the phone with Nick, and when Nick lets him go so he can go to bed, Louis' on his way to Target so he can pick up a few more puzzles for them to work on. He even buys Harry a new necklace, a pretty, dainty rose that'll look good on him. 

When he gets home and immediately wants to ask Harry if he can come over, he realizes he feels and is acting like a teenager in love. Harry's over his house twenty minutes later, wearing his Rolling Stones t-shirt and sweats, and Louis doesn't care if he’s acting stupid. He doesn't care anymore. Because all this time he's been so focused on making and keeping Harry happy, he managed to make himself beyond happy in the process too.

And, just for the record, the necklace  _ does _ look great on him, and he wears it every single day. 


	3. chapter three

Louis already knows what he has to do before Nick's even home. 

It's three in the morning and Nick's due to walk in through the front door within the next twenty minutes. Louis had still planned on picking Nick up from the airport, but Nick's dad called him last night and offered to pick Nick up for him for the hundredth time, and Louis was tired so he reluctantly agreed. If Nick's disappointed, well. Louis' about to disappoint him a lot more, so what's another nail in the coffin?

He's not going to act like he doesn't feel terrible for what he's about to. He feels sick to his stomach and his head feels light. He's cried over this, too much, once even in front of Harry, although he wouldn’t tell him what it was about, which just made Harry super anxious. Louis knows he's a piece of shit for doing this. He knows he promised Nick too many things he couldn't keep. But, at the time, he didn't make those promises for them to be broken. These things just happen, as his mom had put it last night when he called her bawling his eyes out because he's scared he's about to make the worst mistake of his life. 

There's keys in the door. Louis takes a deep breath and gets off the stool. Moose and Ellie go straight for the door like they just know it's Nick. 

He wants to tell Nick to go wait in his car for five minutes so he can have another good cry. 

The door's opening, and Nick's walking in, and he looks  _ good _ . He looks sun kissed and glowing and exhausted as all fuck, but gorgeous. He's always been so fucking pretty. Louis throat tightens up and he rushes forward to hug him, because he still missed him. He's still in love with him, as confusing as that sounds. Louis could've married him and lived a very, very happy life with him, if Harry hadn't came back into the picture. It sounds cruel, but really, it's the truth. 

Nick hugs him tightly, attempting to pour all the love he's carried for Louis in the last forty --  _ forty _ \-- days into a tiny minute. "I fucking missed you," Nick whispers. "I missed you so much. Fucking hell."

"Yeah," Louis whispers back. "Missed you too, Nick."

Nick pulls back, keeping one shoulder planted on Louis' shoulder while the other goes to brush back his hair from his face. "You alright?" he asks, eyebrows furrowed. 

Louis gulps, looks down. He didn't want to have this conversation right away. He didn't want to do this to Nick as soon as we walked into the door. But he’s not sure he can just wait. "Nick. . . " he murmurs, unsure of what else to say. 

Nick doesn't need anything else. He drops his hands from Louis completely, Moose jumping up to lick at his hand. He looks devastated. Crushed. Louis did that, Louis put that look on his face. He's pretty sure he hasn't felt like this much of a failure since he got the call that Harry was missing. 

"Please don't," Nick says, voice raw and scared. Petrified, fuck. Louis can't look up at him. 

"Nick -- "

"Don't do this to me, Lou, please," he begs, his hand coming back to grab Louis' jaw. It's tender and light but also manages to bleed every ounce of Nick's desperation into Louis' skin. "Don't make me come home after forty days to you telling me that you're leaving me. I can't take that right now."

Louis brings his hand up to touch Nick's softly, both of their hands now cupping Louis' cheek. Nick sucks in a sharp breath. "Please tell me I've mistaken what this is about."

Louis pulls Nick's hand off him. Nick makes a whimpering noise. 

"We don't have to talk about it right now," Louis whispers, and he hates how it makes him sound, how it makes him sound more of a monster. He's not trying to make this any harder on Nick, he's not. He just doesn't know how to make it any easier. 

Nick scoffs, and it sounds hurt. "You want to postpone breaking up with me? Seriously? Is this -- is this not a good time for you Louis?" Louis closes his eyes and wipes at his face. "If you didn't want to do it now, maybe you shouldn't have made it so fucking obvious to begin with."

He finally looks at Nick; he has to. He needs to try and calm Nick down so they can have a decent conversation about this. He can't end things with an argument. "I don't necessarily want to break up, I. . . I want a break, I guess? I don't," his eyes well up with tears and he looks off to the side. "I don't know, alright? I just need to figure some things out, I need to -- I need to -- "

"Find out if you can pick things up with where they left off with Harry," Nick finishes, and no, no, that's not what Louis' doing, fuck. "And if you can't -- what? You want me a safety net?"

"No, Nick," he says immediately, sternly. Nick has to believe him. "I don't want to get back together with Harry right now. I don't -- I just, God, I don't know."

"Just say you fucked him already," he hisses, and Louis' eyes snap back to him because  _ what _ . 

"I didn't, what the fuck," he spits, narrowing his eyes at him. "That's fucking -- I'm not a fucking cheater, first of all, and second of all, he's not even -- I'm pretty sure he'll never be ready for sex, and -- "

Nick groans, pushes his way through Ellie and Moose and passed Louis. "Don't do that," he snaps, walking to the fridge. Louis turns around to look at him, watches him grab a water bottle. "Don't fucking go all guard dog about him and his needs, alright? Not when you're fucking breaking up with me. I'd rather fucking die than sit here listening to you kiss his ass."

"Don't say that," Louis whispers, heart dropping. "Please, don't say things like that to me."

Nick shakes his head, jaw clenched tightly shut. He drinks from the water bottle before tossing it onto the counter carelessly. "What are we going to do with the animals then? You're just going to take them from me too?" He's on the verge of shouting now, his voice getting increasingly louder. 

Louis is seconds away from crying. "God, Nick, no. I told you, I need a break, I don't want to move out, I don't want -- I want to have time to figure things out without feeling like I need to please anyone, alright?"

"Maybe I don't want to wait around," Nick snaps, and he has a fair point. Louis isn't the only one who has a say in this. "Maybe, just fucking maybe, I want to ask my fucking fiancé whether he's in or out, and I want the answer  _ right now _ ."

Louis gulps slowly. He has to stand his ground, has to do what's best for him. "I'd tell you I'm out if you asked me that right now," he whispers. If he blinks, tears are going to fall, so he doesn't. His eyes burn. "So I really, really hope you don't ask me that."

Nick stares at him for a few long seconds. When he speaks, all the anger is stripped away from his voice, letting the hurt drive his words now. "You'd get them, you realize that, right?" he whispers, voice trembling. "I can't -- I'm away for maybe half the year sometimes, I can't keep Ellie and Moose with a job like mine."

A sob climbs up Louis' throat. He swallows it down. "You said you were going to quit."

"Because of  _ you _ !" Nick screams, face going red. "Because I wanted to try and do everything I could to make sure you didn't leave me! Because every minute I'm not with you, I'm afraid you're out cheating on me with  _ him _ . I don't _ want _ to quit my job, I  _ love _ my job. But if it was between my job or you, I'd obviously pick you, and that's what it felt it was down to the last few weeks."

"I'm  _ sorry _ ," Louis cries, the tears finally coming, and they come hard. He wipes at his cheeks hurriedly with the back of his hand, hoping that Nick doesn't see this as him trying to play the victim here. "I don't know why I feel like this, okay? I don't. I just -- I was so blindingly in love with you for the longest time, and then all the sudden, I didn't know anymore. I didn't know, and I don't know  _ why _ ."

"Because of him," Nick offers, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. It makes Louis cry harder. 

"I don't know if it is. It -- it could be. It could be. I don't know. I just don't know, and I'm sorry. I've felt like shit about this, and that's not -- I'm not trying to earn your pity or anything, 'cause I know I don't fucking deserve it. But, I just -- you're so good, Nick." He keeps wiping at his cheeks like it's doing anything. It's not. "You're so fucking good, to me and to -- to the world, and I -- I seriously can't think of a person I'd hate hurting more, and  _ I'm sorry _ ."

Nick seems completely unfazed. "Harry," Nick supplies. "Your mom."

"No," Louis objects, shaking his head. "Harry would forgive me. For whatever I did. So would my mom. And I -- what I'm doing right now, I'm pretty sure you can never forgive me for. And I don't blame you, I don't. I'd hate me, too."

Nick stays silent for a few scary minutes. He stares down at the island, eyes trying to burn a whole through it. In the time it takes for him to say anything else, Louis has stopped crying, Ellie has jumped up on the dining table, and Moose has laid splayed out by Nick's legs. 

"If you leave me," Nick starts out, and Louis jumps, not expecting it. "All I'll have is this stupid, too big house."

Tears rush back to Louis' eyes. "You lived here before you even met me. It's your home, Nick. You love it here."

He shakes his head, still staring at the counter. "If you're gone, I can't live here anymore. It won't feel right, not with knowing how it felt to have someone to share the space with me."

"You'll find someone else to share it with," Louis whispers, voice trembling. He doesn't want Nick to find someone else. He doesn't want Nick pining after him forever either, but. He's pretty sure his heart would break into a million pieces if he saw Nick happy with someone else. 

"I don't want anybody else," Nick says, and then he hiccups on a sob. Louis' knees nearly buckle at the noise. He despises Nick crying, hates it more than he hates anything else. "I just want you, Lou," he cries, rubbing his hand over his forehead. He looks over at Louis then, eyes shining with tears and cheeks wet. His lips are wobbling. "You promised me I wouldn't lose you if I went to South Africa."

"Because I didn't think you would," he says, and it's the truth. He didn't think twice about making that promise because there was nothing else to think about. 

Nick just cries harder, his elbows coming to rest on the counter. He hangs his head, defeated. Louis exhales shakily. He really just did that to him. He really just ended things -- properly ended things, too, because he's pretty sure a break won't make a difference anymore. Nick's heart is shattered, and Louis' pretty sure his mind is already made up. 

He's never hated himself more than in this moment. 

Things settle down. Emotions flatline. They end up having the rest of the conversation through half-hearted sentences and tiny little gasps of pain. Nick asks Louis how long Louis thinks he'll stay before moving out, and Louis tells him he doesn't know. Maybe a day. Maybe a week. Maybe a month. He doesn't know, he has to ask around for places to stay. Nick tells him he can stay here until he finds a place, offers to help him pay for an apartment if he needs it. But eventually, subtly, Nick slips in that he'd really like him to go right now. Pack up the things that matter now, and come back for the things that don't later on when Louis finds a place of his own. 

They talk about the pets again. It's pretty much immediately decided there's no other option but for Louis to take them both. Eventually, Nick tells him, he'll reach out and they can set up a system for them to live with Nick part-time, but right now, he's pretty sure he can't handle it. Louis doesn't ask what that means. 

Nick tells him that he thought Louis was going to be his forever person. The father to his children. Louis tells him he thought that too, and that he's sorry. He probably apologizes a hundred times. Nick never says it's okay.

Louis goes upstairs to pack, because he gets the feeling that that's what Nick wants him to do. He doesn't take it personally; Nick probably wants this done and over with as soon as possible so it'll hurt less. While he's pulling his shirts out of their drawers, crying silently, Nick comes in with his suitcases. He pulls everything out of them and sets it on their bed, and then drags the suitcases over to Louis so he can use it. Louis thanks him quietly. 

Nick lingers for a minute, and Louis glances over at him to see him sitting on the edge of the bed and running his fingers through a small plush elephant. It's seriously possible that Louis' heart legitimately breaks. Nick bought him souvenirs, just like he always has. When Nick catches him staring, he smiles sadly. So sadly it can't even count as a smile. 

"I named him Benny," he says. He holds it out to Louis, and Louis walks over to accept it. He can't believe this is actually happening. The elephant is soft in his hands. He thanks Nick quietly. 

"I got you a candle too. And this -- this weird ceramic bowl with cows on it. I think they're cows, anyway. Could be wrong. And I got you a few of these cool little wooden hippos." He moves a few things around before grabbing them all and bringing them to Louis, showing him them. The hippos are very cute, and those are definitely not cows. 

"I think they're oxen," Louis mumbles. 

Nick furrows his eyebrows. "What?"

"The bowl. They're not cows, I don't think. They look like oxen."

"Oh." He pauses, turns the bowl over in his hands. "Think you're right."

Louis thanks him again, and Nick doesn't immediately leave him after setting the things down. Louis looks up at him questioningly, and Nick shakes his head ever so slightly. He moves to pinch Louis' chin, pushing his head up a little. Louis feels his breath get caught in his throat. 

"Can I kiss you?" Nick asks, voice low. "One last time? Please."

Louis answers by kissing him instead of words. It lasts almost half a minute, their lips moving with each other in harmony. Nick's the one to pull away, and Louis suspects it something to do with closure and control. They stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds, Nick's fingers still on his chin and Louis' lips throbbing faintly. Finally, Nick pulls away. 

Nick helps him pack. It's not in a mean, get-the-fuck-out-of-my-house way, it's in a sweet, gentle, let-me-help-you way. It makes Louis feel even worse. He wishes Nick could be mean to him. 

When Louis things from upstairs are stuffed in suitcases -- Nick has so many different suitcases, so there's no issue with that -- they move downstairs. He gets a text back from Niall, who was his first go-to. 

_ u can stay here as long as you need. haven't seen my godchildren in a minute, so of course they can come too. hope you're alright man _

Louis inhales sharply, his eyes getting hot all over again.  _ can you pick me up in thirty? _

of course lou. i love u so fucking much bro. so sorry.

A sob escapes him, and Nick looks up at him from where he's pulling out the endless stream of baking supplies in the cabinet. He looks down for a moment before deciding to come over and pull Louis in for a hug. Louis grips onto him as tight as ever, his fingers strangling the fabric of his shirt. 

"I'm so sorry," he cries, his forehead pressed against Nick's shoulder. Nick's fingers rub over Louis' hips. 

"I'm sorry too," he replies, tone kind of cold, letting Louis know it's not sincere and it's meant to hurt. He cries harder, and Nick holds him tighter. He pulls himself together quickly, and then the two of them cram all of Louis' shit into suitcases for the next twenty minutes. After that, they aren't even done. 

"Niall has a big SUV," Louis says, voice raw. He clears his throat. "I can fit Moose's dog bed."

"Okay," Nick replies thickly, and Louis tucks Ellie and Moose's toys into a suitcase quietly, trying to pretend that he's not listening to Nick say goodbye to the animals. He sounds so, so sad as he strokes Moose's ears and he tells him he's a good boy, and even more crushed when he scratches Ellie's head and calls her his little princess. 

"Any time you want to see them, text me and I'll bring them right over," Louis rushes out, not being able to take it anymore. "Seriously. If I'm at work, I'll have someone else bring them over. They're yours too."

Nick nods and doesn't look up from Ellie, who's purring under his attention.

Niall texts him that he's here a minute after Louis finishes packing everything. It didn't take long at all; he doesn't need to take anything that he won't be needing, like kitchen appliances or the chair or the rugs. The only things he's lugging over to Niall's that aren't really a necessity is all those cake and cookie and brownie boxes, but Louis suspects Nick just wants every trace of Harry out of the house, including the cake boxes. 

"Niall's here," he whispers. 

Nick sighs and wipes at his eyes before nodding and exhaling loudly. They hug again. Nick kisses the top of his head as he pulls away. They pull his many suitcases towards the door, and Louis texts Niall to ask him to come help haul all this out to the car. After he presses send and puts his phone in his pocket, he goes to find Moose's leash, but Nick grabs his wrist. 

Louis thinks maybe he wants another hug. Another kiss. 

"I want your engagement ring," he says coldly. He's not looking at Louis. 

Louis stomach flips. "Seriously?"

"Yes. I bought it. I gave it to you. You're done with it now, so I want it back."

Louis feels like an idiot. He pulls his wrist free and his right hand curls over his left like his trying to hide the ring. He's always loved that ring. It seems unfair. Cruel. But nothing Louis has done so far today was fair or kind either. His fingers run over the diamond a few times, trying to memorize the cut of it, before he tugs it free and hands it to Nick. Nick thanks him in a murmur and puts the ring in his pocket. His own stays on. 

Nick bends down to kiss Moose, and then Ellie, and then he presses a gentle kiss to Louis' forehead before retreating up the stairs. He probably doesn't want to face Niall. 

Niall is at the door soon after, and the two of them pull all of Louis' crap to Niall's car, forcing most of it to fit in the trunk so Moose has room in the back seat. They do it silently. Only when everything's tucked away and dealt with does Louis finally speak. Louis' in the passenger seat, his arms firm around Ellie. She's letting it happen because Louis took her outside, and she hates the outdoors. 

"What are you doing awake at four in the morning?" he asks. He winces at how hoarse his voice sounds. 

Niall turns on the ignition and shrugs nonchalantly. "Harry called me 'round two. Said he couldn't sleep. I couldn't fall back to sleep afterwards."

Everything leads back to Harry. 

"Does he call you often?"

"No," Niall says. Softly, he adds, "He said he would have called you, but he knew Nick was coming home this morning and he didn't want to ruin your morning."

Louis laughs sadly, his eyes wet. Niall pats his knee and lets him cry. 

For the first three days after the break up, Louis acts dead to the world. 

He calls in sick from his job, and really, if he was anybody else other than a shitty, useless worker who doesn't really do much, he'd probably be fired by now. His boss is nice and tells him he can take it off so long as he finds someone to cover his shifts. After he does, then he officially begins the whole dead to the world thing. 

The only person he answers his phone for is Harry, and that's mostly because Harry's an emotionally fragile human being that can't handle being ignored. His mom, his sisters, Zayn, Liam -- they all get the same response from their frantic  _ is it true?? _ texts:  _ not now please, i'm fine, talk to you later x _ . He barely gets up off Niall's couch unless it's to tend to the pets, piss, or eat occasionally. He just lays there most of the time, especially when Niall's at work, simply staring at the ceiling and wondering if he made the right decision. 

He's pretty sure he did. And he's also pretty sure that if he comes to the decision that he hasn't, that Nick would take him back after he lays down solid proof that he's trustworthy. So either way, he knows he should try and relax a little, but he can't. He's heartbroken, and it feels stupid because he's literally not the one who got his heart broken. Nick is. And God, he's going crazy not knowing if Nick's okay.

Nick has an extremely tight circle of friends. He only really counts three people as close friends, those people being Henry, Fiona, and Aimee. He doesn't have Henry's phone number, he's pretty sure Nick and Aimee haven't talked in a while and he doubts Nick would be open with her about this, and Fiona would definitely tell him to fuck off without telling Louis if Nick's okay or not. So really, he has no idea and no way of knowing. 

Niall leaves him alone for the most part. Niall's good like that; if it were Liam, he'd constantly be asking him if he was okay. Zayn would probably get him high every night. Niall, though. Niall just sits with him at the couch for dinner, talks a bit about his day at work, and pats at his knee every now and then. He takes Moose out for walks without having to be asked. 

Moose seems fine with the change of scenery, while Ellie seems irritated. She lays on Niall's bed and Niall's bed only, she won't stop meowing at Louis until he gets up and  _ carries  _ her to her food bowl even though he's showed her twenty times where it is, and she keeps flicking her tail at him. He's scared that she's missing Nick and lashing out, even when he knows, logically, that that's not true. She never acts like this when Nick's off on a trip, so it's just because she doesn't like Niall's house for some reason. 

Whatever it is, he's just relieved that she uses her litter box still. Niall adores both Moose and Ellie, but he's pretty sure some lines would be crossed if Ellie went and shit on his carpet. 

The fourth day is a Saturday so he doesn't have to work, and he fully expects to keep up his act of not existing until he gets a text around noon from Niall. 

_ hii. i only work half days on sat so i should be home soon.. bringing home a girl tho, hope you don't mind. she wont be over long. _

Louis groans. He really, really doesn't want to have to listen to Niall fuck some girl while he lays miserably heartbroken on the couch.  _ that's fine,  _ he texts anyway _. it's your house. _

_ right but you're living in it now. if you want me to blow liz off i will.  _

_ nooo. no reason to do that. bring her over, i don't mind. but pls don't expect me to talk to her _

_ trust me tommo, she's not coming over do any talking. _

_ NIALLLLLLLLLLLLLLL  _ is all he texts back. He's pretty sure it conveys his emotions properly. He lays there, sad and tired even though he slept for ten hours last night, until Niall comes home. Once he hears the key slide in the door, he tells Moose to stay, sits up and fucks with his hair a little to make it look less bad, and covers himself up with the blanket Niall gave him. He pretends to be watching TV, doing his best to seem casual, when Niall and Liz come in.

Liz has long, blonde hair that sways around as she walks. She has a nose piercing and a sleeve of dark tattoos against her pale skin. She reminds him of Harry in that sense. The way she looks and carries herself seems all no-nonsense, but she waves shyly at Louis and tucks her hair behind her ear. 

Niall snickers at her and shoves her forward playfully. "He doesn't swing that way, Elizabeth."

Her face burns bright and she hits Niall in the shoulder, cursing at him. "You're such a fuckhead, Jesus Christ. I was just saying hi."

"Yeah, right, whatever. Sure. Can we go now, please?"

She rolls her eyes and pulls him by the wrist in the direction of Niall's bedroom. Louis watches them go, feeling bewildered. They're acting like siblings, and what they're about to do is definitely not what siblings should be doing.

Niall's house is decently sized, but the master bedroom, Niall's room, shares the same room as the living room. As soon as Louis hears the first noise -- he doesn't even let himself try and decipher what or who it is -- he immediately gets off the couch and heads to the back porch with his phone in hand. Moose follows, grabbing his ball, probably thinking Louis' actually going to get off his lazy ass for the first time in three days to play with him. 

He sits out on the patio, watching Moose entertain himself for a few minutes. He knows he should call his mom, update her a bit on this whole situation. She helped him gain the courage to go through with breaking things off with Nick; she should be the first person he reaches out to. But he knows he'll cry if he tells her about it, and he really, really doesn't want to cry anymore. He's done enough of that. 

His knee-jerk reaction is to call Nick. He always calls Nick when they're apart and Louis needs someone to talk to, but they aren't together anymore, so that’d be outrageously inappropriate. He still wants to know how Nick is doing, though. He's going to have to convince Liam or someone else to call him for him, just to be sure that he's alright. He needs to know for sure. 

Maybe he should call Zayn to take his mind off things, or Liam to ask about the baby, or any one of his sisters that would be more than happy to talk to him. There's so many people here for him, ones who are probably a better idea to call, and still, he finds himself dialing Harry's number instead. 

He answers on the fourth ring. "Hi, Lou."

"Hey."

Belatedly, he realizes he doesn't actually know what to talk about with Harry. He doesn't want to talk about Nick with anyone, especially Harry. Any other time, the two of them would find something random to talk about, but he knows Harry's going to be slightly awkward and loose-footed because he's not sure if he should bring Nick up or not. It's not even a new thing; Harry's always been unsure how to navigate people's emotions. He's never really found the right place between feeling like he's overstepping and being scared that if he doesn't bring something up, they're going to think he doesn't care. 

"Feels like I haven't seen you in forever," Harry mumbles. 

Louis closes his eyes and hums. "I know. Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. I didn't mean -- I get it." He pauses, clears his throat. "I'm sorry about everything that happened," he rushes out, and before Louis can say anything, he says, "How is it at Niall's?"

"Fine. Cozy. Have you been to his house yet?"

"No. Just Liam's."

Louis chews on the inside of his bottom lip. He keeps marveling at all this progress Harry has made, even went as far as thinking that Harry was back to normal last time, and yet Harry still hasn't been able to venture over to one of his best friend's house in the seven months he's been back. He thinks that just because Harry can touch him now, that means he's okay, when in reality, Harry's still hurting. It's hard to think about, because Harry acts so bright around him most of the time, but it's the truth. 

They talk for a half hour longer, and Louis tells him he has to go when Niall comes outside, shirtless. 

"Did we scare you off?" Niall asks, laughing. Louis squints at him, but doesn't say anything. He's not going to make Niall uncomfortable in his own home. Niall laughs again and sits down next to him. Moose comes running towards him and drops a ball by his feet. Niall grimaces as he throws it for him, and wipes his slobbered-covered hand off on his pants. 

Niall nudges Louis' foot with his own. Louis glances at him. "Were you talking to Haz?"

Louis nods wordlessly. He throws the ball for Moose when he comes trotting back. 

Niall nods back slowly. He turns his head to watch Moose run around in circles in the backyard. After a quiet minute, he sighs and turns back to Louis. "Can I ask you a question?"

Louis hates how unsure he sounds. Whatever his question is, Louis' probably not going to like it. "I guess."

"Did you leave Nick for Harry?"

Louis was right: he doesn't like this question. It's not that simple. It's not fair to ask. If he says yes, he sounds like a monster, and if he says no, nobody's going to believe him. He left Nick to figure things out. That's what he keeps telling himself, anyway. He's pretty sure that's the truth. 

"I don't know," he mumbles, tearing his eyes from Niall. He's scared judgement will be in them. God, everyone probably thinks he's this disloyal, cheating bastard.  _ Nick _ probably thinks that, even though Louis tried to make it clear that there was no cheating involved. "I was happy with Nick for a really long time. And I wasn't exactly unhappy with him when I ended things, it's just. I don't know how to explain it. But things started getting blurry when Harry showed up, so maybe? I don't know."

"But do you think -- like, are you going to try and get back together with Harry now?"

Louis shakes his head immediately.  _ That _ question isn't difficult.

"Good," Niall says, standing up. He gives Louis a small smile. "I'm pretty I don't need to tell you he's not ready for that at the moment, but. He's not ready for that."

"I know, Niall."

"I know you know. I just wanted to make sure." He bends down to squeeze Louis' shoulder. "You coming inside?"

He shakes his head again. "I need to call my mom really quick. Get her updated."

"Alright. That's fine. Make it quick though, 'cause Zayn and Liam are going to be over in, like, thirty minutes. I'm gonna go shower."

Louis just nods. He doesn't exactly want to see Zayn and Liam right now, but he supposes this is Niall's polite way of telling him that he can't be a couch potato forever. He takes a deep breath and calls his mom.

About ten minutes into a movie Niall declared was "the best of all time," Louis is a hundred percent certain nobody actually wants this little get together to occur except Niall. Liam is barely awake, his eyes fluttering shut every few minutes only to fly open again. Zayn is shamelessly texting Jake, and all of Louis’ attention is focused on a semi-serious, semi-joking text fight the two of them are having. Louis can't read a quarter of the screen because of the way Zayn's positioned, but from what he gathers, Jake is legitimately irritated about something and Zayn is having too much fun taking the piss out of him for it. 

The only one actually watching the movie is Niall; even Louis, who is supposed to be the center of attention here, isn't paying attention. Instead, he's poking at Ellie's feet to irritate her. 

Nick would tell him to leave her alone and come to her rescue, scooping her up and hiding her under the covers from Louis. But that's not the point. 

Eventually, about thirty minutes into the movie, Ellie has enough and leaves him. He sighs. He kind of just wants to sleep. Of course he appreciates everyone's efforts in showing they care, but it's not helping him any happier. All it really does is highlight how drifted they've become; if you would've taken them four and put them in a house with no limits years ago, there would have been plenty of alcohol, booming bursts of laughs, and probably a mess or three by now.

Maybe it's because all they've all grown up by now -- hell, Liam has a fucking  _ child _ . They're definitely considered mature adults by now. So maybe it's because they're all a bunch of old people with their own separate lives now, or maybe it's because they're missing their glue. 

Louis' not stupid: Harry isn't the only thing holding them together, or else none of them would be here right now. But after Harry went missing, it took _ years _ for Niall and Zayn to stop apologizing to Louis every time they seen him, to finally accept that it wasn't their fault that Harry went off without them and that Louis didn't hate them or blame them. Liam has always been miles ahead of them in maturity, so even when Harry was around, seeing him became less and less for all of them. Out of all of them, Zayn's probably the one who has stayed mostly the same, but he's never been the who starts the noise, he just adds to it when it starts.

Harry always, always created noise. By now, he would've confiscated Zayn's phone, told Louis to stop being weird, and guided Liam to Niall's bed so he could sleep, all while watching the movie intently with Niall. He brought out the good and goofy in all of them, especially Louis. And when Louis is happy, which he always was around Harry, this little gathering would be way more fun. 

He lays his head on the back of the couch, sighing again quietly. "Harry should be here," he mumbles. Harry would have always been here, and every time they did make time to hang out after Harry’s disappearance, one of them would always promise the others that if Harry wasn't missing, he'd be right next to them, smilingly brightly. Harry's back, and he's not even here. That doesn't seem right. Nobody even thought to invite him. 

"Yeah," Niall and Zayn chorus quietly, and Liam rolls on his back from where he's stretched out on the couch opposite to the one Zayn and Louis are sitting on. He kicks Niall in the progress, but Niall doesn't seem to care. 

"It'd be nice, yeah," Liam says. "All of us back together again. We haven't been all in one room since. . . " The space between his eyebrows crease as he tries to remember. "I don't know, like, a month before he went missing?"

Niall shakes his head. "Two months before, I think. We were all at my brother's girlfriend's birthday party, remember?"

"So, like, seven years," Louis whispers, and it doesn't feel real. All those years he spent missing Harry felt like an eternity, and now that he's on the other side of it, seven years still sounds completely insane. That's almost a decade. Harry hasn't been surrounding in a room full of his stupid friends in almost a decade. He spent over half a decade in pain and fear. It sounds absurd. 

"We could invite him," Zayn says, and Niall makes a noise of dissent. 

"That'd overwhelm him, wouldn't it?" They all are looking at Louis now, like he knows. He doesn't; nothing is predictable with Harry anymore. He can't tell them yes or no with certainty. Harry's surprised him with how big of steps he's taking lately, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have his days or weeks where he's completely retreated back in on himself and he wants to spend the day in bed, or on Louis' couch watching a movie in complete silence, one completely different sides of the rooms. 

"I don't know," Louis admits, feeling like a failure somehow. He should know Harry better than that. “I talked to him a little while ago and he seemed fine, but, like. I don’t know for sure that he could take this today.”

Niall reaches forward to pause the movie. He settles back into the couch and exhales loudly. "I was talking to him the other day," he says, "and he said that, like. That he feels like a different person around Lou, that he's not the same person who got caught up in the mess that he did." He looks that at Louis, stare intense. "I don't want anyone or anything ruining that for him. I don't want us pushing him too hard and having him lose that."

Zayn shrugs. "If nobody pushes him at least a little, he's not going to get any better."

"Everyone's got to stop assuming he can get any better than the way he is right now," Louis argues, shaking his head. "He's decent. I think Niall's right. We shouldn't mess with that."

"He's not a child," Liam disagrees. 

Zayn nods. "Ask Anne first, and if she clears it, then ask him. He knows he can say no."

"He was probably saying 'no' for six years straight and nobody gave a single fuck, so I wouldn't be so sure he thinks his voice has any power," Niall bites, and his eyes are narrowed. He's defensive. Protective of Harry. Harry must've said something that spooked Niall during their conversation on the phone, because between his behavior now and how serious he was earlier when he told Louis that Harry wasn't ready for a relationship, there's definitely a pattern forming that wasn't there before. 

Louis chooses his words carefully, not wanting to make Niall any more tense. "He's better at asking for what he wants now," Louis tells them. "About being honest. It's one of the first things that Anne worked with him on, and he's gotten loads better at communicating. He still struggles with it at times, but, like. I'm pretty sure if I asked, he'd be honest with me."

He almost wants to take the words back as soon as he says them. If Harry says yes and he does come over, and something bad happens, Louis' going to feel beyond guilty. For telling the boys that it was okay and for inviting Harry over here.

It's quiet for a moment, all of them lost in nostalgia and doubt. They want Harry here -- at least, Louis hopes so -- but they're terrified of hurting him. It makes Louis feel proud, in a weird way. Proud of his friends for being so fucking caring towards someone Louis would die for. 

"Ask Anne," Niall decides, chewing on his thumbnail. He removes his finger from his mouth and wipes it at his pants. "If you think he'll be honest about not wanting to come or not, then ask her. It's not the same without him."

"No, it's not," Liam agrees, and Zayn nods. 

Louis gets his phone out and goes to the messaging app. He does his best to ignore how Nick's' name is getting pushed lower and lower in his recent messages since they haven't texted recently.

_ how's harry today? _ he texts, and then motions for Niall to click play on the movie. He doesn't want them all staring at him as they wait for her reply. Robin Williams' face is in the next shot, and Louis kind of regrets not paying attention to the movie so far. It sounded boring though, something about a poetry club. 

_ He was a little bit off this morning, but since you called, he's been doing good. Why? _

_ niall, liam, zayn and i are at niall's. i was wondering if it'd be okay if i asked him if he wanted to join? _

_ Sure. He's in the shower now but he'll be out soon. text him and ask, that's fine. _

"Anne said it's okay," he announces, and then texts her a quick thank you before going to text Harry. 

_ hiiii. the four of us are at niall's if you wanted to join. you don't have to -- i can come over and see you sometime after work this week.  _

A response comes ten minutes later.  _ It's just you four? _

_ yep. we're just watching a movie right now. _

_ Uhhhh sure. but only if you promise not to leave me alone with them _ , he replies, and Louis knows for a fact that Harry's wincing at how harsh his words sound, but it's okay. Louis understands. He'll gladly be Harry's security blanket in this situation. 

Another text from Harry.  _ I don't wanna be there for more than a few hours. And if i want to leave will you take me home?  _

_ of course. just let me know and we can go right away. _

_ Okay _ , Harry sends. _ I'll be there in fifteen then. _

Louis grins.  _ sounds good haz :) _

Harry comes, they all say hi a little tensely, and then, barely a minute later, Harry's tucked away into Louis' side on the couch, cramming himself between the couch arm and Louis. He's mostly just slumped into Louis -- they're not really cuddling -- but the other three all exchange confused looks as if they were. Niall looks somewhat irritated, and Louis makes a mental note to ask him what's up with him, why he's being so protective of Harry today. 

"What are you guys watching?" Harry asks quietly, the movie frozen on the screen. Niall grins at him. 

"Only the best movie in the world. It's called _ Dead Poet's Society _ ."

"Maybe we should change it," Zayn mutters quickly, only looking at Niall. 

Niall furrows his eyebrows, looking mildly offended. "Why?"

"The ending," Zayn says. "Where -- you know. Neil -- "

"Spoilers!" Niall hisses, waving his arms. When he's sure Zayn's not going to finish the sentence, he huffs. 

Zayn rolls his eyes. "You've already seen this movie."

"Yes, and apparently so have you, but the rest of us haven't. It's called courtesy, Zayn."

Louis doesn't know how this movie ends, so he can't exactly put his two cents in on whether or not they should find a new movie or not. Harry, though, sits up against his side and shrugs awkwardly. "I've seen this movie before, so, like. If you're trying to, um, protect me from something, I don't need it."

Guilt floods Zayn's eyes as he looks to him. Louis knows how crappy that feels, Harry feeling uncomfortable when you’re only trying to help. "Shit, Haz, I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"It's fine," Harry promises, tucking himself back against Louis' side. His hand moves to clutch at Louis' hip, a silent way of trying to anchor himself. 

Niall sighs. "So Louis and Liam are the only two shitheads who haven't seen this movie, and Liam's probably going to end up falling asleep half way through. Maybe we  _ should _ just find another movie."

"I won't fall asleep," Liam denies, although they all know he will. 

Harry squeezes at his hip, and Louis' pretty that means that Harry would like to see this movie again, so Louis' going to make it happen. 

"I think I deserve to see this movie, Niall," he says, faking a serious voice. "If it's as good of a movie as you say it is, anyway."

Niall grins at him. "Oh, it is, Tommo. It is." 

He rewinds to the beginning and clicks play. Harry shifts next to him so Louis can feel the thankful smile Harry presses to the side of his neck. 

For some reason, this time around, Louis pays close attention to the movie, and so do Zayn and Liam, who doesn't end up falling asleep after all. 

That night, a few hours after he's dropped Harry off an hour after the movie ended because he was randomly hit with a blast of anxiety and wanted to leave, Niall and him are sitting on the couch. Both of them are sipping beers and watching  _ Shark Tank.  _ He waits for a commercial break to finally bring it up, because he knows Niall will shush him otherwise. 

"What'd Harry say to you?" he asks bluntly, getting straight to the point. He takes a drink from his beer, and Niall gives him a questioning glance. "You've been, like, super protective of him lately. Which, obviously I appreciate -- it's good knowing there's people looking out for him -- but I'm curious. What'd he say to you?"

Niall shrugs, although the nonchalance he was trying to fake fails. He's all tense again. "Nothing, Lou."

"Niall. Come on."

"Louis, it's none of your business."

"Harry's my business. And if you won't tell me, I'm assuming you haven't told Anne, and I know I don't need to remind you that the two of us are the backbone of Harry's emotional support system right now. If he said something that managed to get under your skin so much, I'd like to know about it."

That seems to get through to him. He sighs deeply, takes a long drag from his beer, and nods. "Fine," he agrees, leaning forward to set the can down on the table. He looks withdrawn, and he won't look at Louis. "I don't know how to tell you it without making it sound like something it's not, though."

Louis furrows his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Niall wipes his hands on his jeans and sighs again. "He, like. When he said it, I immediately thought he was alluding to something really fucked up, and I, like -- whatever. Before I say it, I just want you to know that's not accusing you of something."

"Wha --  _ me? _ "

He has no idea what Niall's going to say next.

"You know how he called me the morning you and Nick split? He said that he had a feeling you were going to end things with Nick," Niall says slowly, looking at Louis apologetically for mentioning that whole mess. "And he -- he said that he was scared it was because of him. At first, he started off saying that he was taking up a lot of your time, and then it kinda morphed into him talking about how he was, like, worried that you -- " Niall's eyes flick away, "that you were wanting to get back together with him. That you were, like, expecting it."

Louis feels himself pale. That's -- he tries really, really hard not to expect _ anything  _ from Harry, no matter how small. He doesn't understand how Harry could feel like that. Yes, Louis' been touchy and maybe a little flirty with him, but that's how they've always been, even before they started dating, and he only acts that way on the days he knows Harry wants him to. And Harry reciprocates it. Louis just doesn't understand, and Niall hasn't even gotten to the worst part yet. 

"He told me that he's scared he's going to lose you," Niall continues. "He said that he really, really needs you, and that he's worried you're going to -- to make a move on him or something. He said he was scared he wouldn't be able to say no, and that -- that something would happen that he wasn't ready for, or that if he  _ was _ able to say no, you'd get mad at him for it and ignore him, or you wouldn't take no for an answer."

"That's fucking  _ insane _ ," Louis seethes, no longer surprised or hurt but angry. He's never,  _ ever _ taken advantage of  _ anyone _ , let alone someone as important to him as Harry is, and he'd _ never _ do anything without his consent.  _ Fuck _ , even if Louis  _ did _ want to jump right back into things with Harry, which he's pretty sure he doesn't at the moment, he would take things at  _ Harry's _ pace. He's  _ always _ taken things at Harry's pace. How could Harry even  _ think _ that? He knows Louis better than anyone in the entire world, and for him to think -- to  _ fear _ \-- that Louis is even capable of that is fucking absurd and honestly offensive. 

"I know, I  _ know _ , okay? But you -- you have to understand that he's still so fucking traumatized," Niall reasons, although he sounds like he's sympathizing with Louis as well. "He probably knows you would never do anything like that, but that doesn't mean he's not scared of it. Tons of people are afraid of illogical things, it's just how we operate. But, like, look at how he was today before getting so anxious. He still trusts you wholeheartedly -- fuck, he was practically halfway in your lap by the time he the movie ended. I think he was just talking out loud, and it was super early in the morning; he isn't actually scared of you. He's just. . . scared. In general."

Louis gets that. He gets that Harry has festering traumas, and that they can warp his thoughts and make him believe in things he normally wouldn't. Of course Louis can understand that, and of course he can sympathize with Harry, but at the same time, Louis' still hurt. He still feels offended. He's still stuck here questioning if he's stomped through some of Harry's boundaries without realizing it. He can't believe Harry would even think something like that, let alone tell Niall something like that. 

"Please don't be too upset," Niall says quietly. "You haven't done anything wrong."

Louis scoffs. "Maybe I have, if he's saying shit like that."

"Lou, come on, man. He's scared of everything. It's not hard to believe he could be scared of you, too. He's probably scared of all of us, even though he knows, logically, that it's pointless and unrealistic."

Louis sighs, shakes his head. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore. He downs the rest of his beer before grabbing the blanket at the end of the couch and throwing it over himself. "I think I'm gonna go to bed," he mumbles, hoping Niall gets the message. He does, although he doesn't look happy about it. He pats Louis' knee and stands. 

"Please don't let this eat at you. I only told you 'cause it's probably in Harry's best interest that you make sure he knows you aren't expecting anything from him. Goodnight, Lou."

Louis mutters a goodnight back, even though he knows there's no way he's going to be able to get any sleep without talking to Harry about this first.

Maybe going to Harry's house at ten o'clock at night isn't a good idea. This conversation could probably wait, and he shouldn't be barging in uninvited like this, especially on a day where, only hours ago, Harry was feeling anxious. Still, he’s here, but only because he can't stop thinking about it. He wants to make sure that Harry knows that Louis would never, ever hurt him like that. 

Anne frowns when she opens the door and sees him. "Did Harry text you to come here? I'm sorry, Louis, he shouldn't have bothered you this late at night."

"He didn't. I just -- I wanted to see him. To talk about something."

She nods slowly, her frown deepening. "Is something wrong?"

"Not really," he says, because he really doesn't want to have to explain to her house Harry told one of their best friends that he's scared that Louis' going to force himself on him. Yeah, that definitely doesn't sound like a pleasant conversation to have with her right now. 

"Okay, well. . . " She opens the door more so he can come in. He does. Penny is perched on the back of the couch, so he knows Harry isn't sleeping, or else she would be with him. She closes the door quietly. "And Louis?"

He turns to her expectantly.

"I'm so sorry about Nick," she says, face softening. Louis glances away, not wanting to look her in the eye right now when he knows that she probably thinks he did it because of Harry. He hates how everyone they know most likely thinks that. "No, dear. Really. I just hope you two can manage to become friends again after all of this. He's a really good guy."

"I broke his heart," Louis reminds her. "I highly doubt he's going to want to be my friend."

She looks sad. "Louis -- "

"It's fine," he assures her, only to brush her off. He then motions to the direction of the stairs, and she nods at him that it's okay to go. He does, walking up the stairs to Harry's room. Harry's not in his room when he gets there, so he lets himself in and sits on the edge of his bed, trying to calm himself down. 

When Harry returns, he jumps terribly when he sees Louis. And of course he did; Louis should've given him a bit of a warning, especially since Harry's afraid someone is going to turn up here and punish him. 

"Jesus Christ, Louis," he hisses, arms snaking around his middle. He comes further into the room with confusion on his face. "Why are you here? Not that mind, but, like. Why?"

He intends to build up to it and keep Niall out of it, but that's not what ends up happening. "Niall told me what you said about me," he blurts. Harry tilts his head a little, looking even more confused. "The morning I broke up with Nick, you called him and -- "

"He wasn't supposed to tell you that," Harry interrupts, face a mix of anger and embarrassment. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before settling on repeating, "He wasn't supposed to tell you that."

Louis goes to speak, and Harry shakes his head sternly. "No, Louis. He wasn't supposed to tell you that. I was -- I'm not, like, afraid of you. I trust you."

Louis squints at him slightly. "I know you do," he tells him.

"I know you would listen if I -- if I said no," he continues, although this time, the certainty of his words wavers. Louis understands what Niall was trying to say earlier; Harry doesn't actually believe Louis could do that, but he's so scared and scarred that his anxiety keeps telling him it's a possibility, even when he knows it's not. 

"Of course I would," Louis says quickly. "Of course. I wouldn't even put you in a situation where you'd have to say no. I," he swallows thickly, "I don't -- and I mean this in no disrespect -- but I don't even want to get back together with you right now." Something unrecognizable flashes over Harry's face, and Louis decides not to push it. "I don't want to be with  _ anyone _ right now. And I really want to make it crystal clear that I don't expect  _ anything _ from you,  _ ever _ . If I try to hold your hand, or -- or cuddle with you, I hope you understand that you have ever right to push me away and tell me to fuck off."

Harry takes a deep breath. Tears are glistening in his eyes. "I really wish Niall didn't tell you that. I. . . Do you tell them everything I tell you?" He looks worried for a moment.

"No, no. Of course not. Nothing important. The only person I tell anything is your mom."

He nods jerkily. "Okay. Okay, good. But I -- I don't -- " he sighs, takes another deep breath. He laughs shakily. "I'm not good at being on this side of the conversation. Like, the, um, the one doing the reassuring."

Louis laughs at that as well. Harry's right; usually the roles are reversed. Except Louis' not a traumatized person suffering through anxiety and paranoia and old haunts, he's a level-headed adult, and he can't ask Harry to pretend like either of them are anything else. "I don't need to be reassured that you trust me. Promise. I just wanted to make it clear that I'd never take advantage of you like that."

Harry nods and looks at his feet. "I know, Lou. I've always known that." He takes another deep breath and comes over to sit on the bed with Louis. There's a possible larger gap between them that there wouldn't have been before this conversation, Louis can't tell. Harry begins playing with his hands in his lap. "This, like. I'm kinda uncomfortable talking about this, so -- "

"Then don't, Haz, it's okay."

"No, let me." He falls quiet for a minute before continuing. "You were. . . You  _ are _ the only person who I gave permission to see me like -- like  _ that _ . Out of every single person who's -- who's been with me like that -- and trust me, there's been a lot -- you're the only one who I wanted to. The only one that made me feel safe. Cared for. And that means a lot to me, Louis."

Louis hadn't thought of that before. Harry was a virgin when they first got together. He'd made out with a couple of girls before Louis, and a few guys too, but he'd never been naked with a person before Louis. Out of all the people Harry's been with sexually, there was only one that he ever actually wanted to be with, and that was Louis. But -- 

"It shouldn't," Louis disagrees. He shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts in order. "I mean, like. It's not like I did anything that any other decent human wouldn't do."

Harry sniffs and shrugs. "Maybe not. Maybe you're right. I don't know."

Louis sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. What is he doing to Harry right now? He was selfish coming here, for ruining Harry's night with this. And he probably just damaged whatever trust Harry had built back up with Niall. Fuck. "I shouldn't have come here and thrown this on you, shit. I'm sorry."

Harry looks at him and smiles, and if it's a little dim, Louis doesn't notice. "Hey, that's not fair. I can come to you whenever, wherever with my problems. It’s only right that you can do the same."

"I guess," Louis says, although he feels like that's not exactly true. "I. . . I guess I should go back to Niall's then."

Harry nods. "Okay. Yeah. I was going to go to bed soon anyway."

"Alright." Louis stands and wipes at the back of his jeans to give his hands something to do. He turns to Harry and smiles. "Goodnight, then."

"Night, Lou."

Louis takes two steps forward, and then a hand grabs his wrist tightly. He was almost expecting Harry to stop him. Maybe he wasn't expecting a hug, but that's what he gets, and he's more than happy about it. It's where Harry belongs, in Louis' arms with his face nuzzled into the side of his neck and his arms tight around Louis' middle. 

"I trust you," Harry whispers, and for a moment, Louis misheard him and heard  _ I love you _ . Maybe it's all the same to Harry. Louis' pretty sure it'd be harder for Harry to trust someone than it would be to fall in love with them. 

"I trust you too," he whispers, indulging the side of him that kind of wishes Harry did say 'I love you'. And he knows that that maybe goes against his firm position in the fact that he didn't leave Nick for Harry, but he doesn't really care. He really doesn't. 

Looking for apartments is more difficult than Louis thought it'd be. 

When Harry and Louis had been searching for one, Louis was carefree about it all. He told Harry that as long as it had a working toilet and space to put a microwave, then he was set. Ever time Harry showed him a picture of a new apartment, or they went out and saw one, Louis would just nod and say 'this one looks good, babe'. He can't remember if he was doing it because he actually didn't care, or if he just wanted Harry to pick one that  _ he  _ loved without worrying about what Louis thought. 

Now, whenever Harry turns Louis' laptop around and asks him what he thinks about this one, Louis always makes the same wrinkled, displeased face. Either they're too small, or they have weird stains on the bathroom floor, or they don't allow pets. And if they do, half the time they don't allow big dog breeds. It's always something, and really, Niall's a patient guy, but it's been a month since Louis' been living with him and Louis knows Niall's probably wondering when he's going to leave by now. 

"I think you need to be less picky," Harry says, turning the computer back around to face himself. He starts typing, and for the first time, Louis notices how he carries his right wrist differently. "That one with the yellow kitchen was nice."

"That one one was forty minutes away from my job."

Harry's face wrinkles, much like how Louis' has all day. "That means, like, thirty minutes away from me, so I agree that one's a no."

God, Louis' so glad to have him back. It's almost been a year, and Louis still feels like the luckiest person in the whole wide world. 

When Louis finally finds an apartment he likes later that night, he finds himself making sure there's a second bedroom and sending Harry the link.  _ how about this one? _ he asks, fully prepared to move on from it if Harry doesn't like it. 

Harry’s text is immediate. _ That was one of the first ones i showed you louis!!!  _

_ oopsies. wanna come see it with me on tuesday? _

Only if you come back to mine after

_ deal _

Louis ends up really liking the apartment. He can picture Moose sprawled out on the beige carpet, Harry's puzzles sprawled out on the table, Ellie perched by the window, Harry baking with him in the small blue kitchen, barefoot and humming a Shania Twain song, the boys coming over, his sisters staying the night, Harry sitting out with him in the tiny private porch outside his door. Harry likes it to, and really, what more could he ask for?

And Harry’s not terribly anxious as the building’s manager shows them around. He stays behind Louis, and he flinches when she shakes his head, and he never, ever talks to her directly, but it’s not terrible. 

The day Louis moves out, Niall claps him on the back after piling the last box into Louis' car and says, "I really, really thought you were gonna stick around forever." He's a little sad about Louis going, he can tell, but Niall is still seeing Liz, so it's not like he's going to be lonely. 

Harry's not there with him on Moving Day like they originally planned for him to be, and normally, Louis would be upset and worried, but not today. The only reason Harry's not here dragging boxes with the rest of them is because he woke up feeling super anxious and made a last minute appointment with his brand new therapist Kelly. 

This whole situation was kind of thrown onto Louis; Harry didn't want Louis knowing about him trying out a therapist in case he couldn't go through with it, so he waited until he saw Kelly twice to tell Louis, and Louis was fucking ecstatic. Harry started seeing her about two and a half weeks ago, two times a week. So he's only seen her five times now, but Harry says she's kind and doesn't force him to talk about anything he doesn't want to. Apparently, they haven't even started talking about those six years he was gone. Louis had gotten prickly when Harry told him that -- that's  _ literally _ the point of Harry seeing a therapist -- but Harry had assured him it's only because he wasn't ready to. He's not on any medication yet, although Anne's trying to push him into trying something to help with his anxiety. Both her and Louis are pretty sure Harry's never going to budge on it, though. 

"I'm happy for you, baby," Jay tells Louis as she washes up the dishes they bought from Target last week, even though Louis told her she didn't need to do that. He looks up at her from where he's unboxing Moose's things. He doesn't have much of anything set up yet, but he wants to make sure the pets are settled before he thinks about himself. "You're happier now. I didn't realize you were unhappy with Nick until recently."

Louis shakes his head. "I wasn't unhappy with Nick, Mom. He's a good person."

"That's good to hear, Louis. But I think we both know that you made the right decision. That someone makes you happier." Louis gives her a look, and she gives him one right back. "Are we going to pretend that the first thing you unpacked was all your baking supplies that you only bought because of him?"

"Yes, we are," he says, and then sticks his tongue out at her. She laughs at him and shakes her head fondly. 

By the end of the day, him and Liam have gotten his bed set up, the TV mounted, and an IKEA coffee table built in front of his sofa. Really, that's all Louis needs to survive comfortably, so he shoos everyone home and insists he doesn't need anymore help. He spends the next hour unpacking the necessities, but at nine, he decides he's done for the day. He's completed more progress than he thought he would be able to today, mostly thanks to everyone who helped. 

After he's changed into his pajamas and as he's flipping through the channels, there's a knock on the door. It's so quiet that Louis wouldn't have recognized it as a knock if Moose hadn't jumped up and ran towards the door. He sighs, sends a silent prayer that it's not an over friendly neighbor that wants to say hi since he's looking a little worn down, and opens the door. 

It takes him a solid ten seconds for him to recognize the person before him as Harry. It's just -- he knows it's Harry, of course he does, it's just -- his  _ hair _ . It's  _ cut _ . It's -- it's still longer than Harry had it before he went missing, but it looks  _ good _ . Healthy.  _ He _ looks good. His hair curls inward towards maybe an inch past his jaw; he probably got it got six or seven inches.

He looks a little self-conscious, Louis realizes once the initial shock wears off. He's staring down at the ground and he's holding himself in a way that's becoming less and less common, and Anne has a hand on his shoulder, providing comfort. 

Louis levels himself by taking a deep breath. "I'm glad you stopped by. Come in."

Harry slowly raises his head to look up at him, and he looks grateful that Louis didn't make an awkward remark about his hair. Anne and Harry enter, and Louis watches them look around and take in the apartment. Moose is waiting patiently at Harry's feet for pets, and Ellie wanders into the living room to see who's here. She meows at them. 

"It looks nice so far, Louis," Anne tells him. She pats Harry shoulder. "He wanted to come by and see if there's anything else you need help unpacking."

Nothing sounds worse to Louis right now than more unpacking, except maybe hurting Harry's feelings. So he smiles tightly and nods. "Yeah, loads."

Harry looks relieved. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner like I was going to."

"I already told you, H, it's okay."

"I still feel bad," Harry murmurs, sounding a little more pouty than actually upset. 

Louis shakes his head. "Don't. Seriously. If you really wanna help, there's, like, a hundred other boxes left to go through."

After Anne leaves, they decide they should unpack the rest of the kitchen things. About half of it is already tucked away in the cabinets, so it's not exactly a long job. They do it silently, aside from the music playing from Louis' phone that he occasionally catches Harry nodding along with. 

Once they finish, Harry moves to pick through some other boxes, but Louis stops him. "Come on, Haz. It's late. Let's just watch some TV and relax."

"But I didn't help earlier," Harry reminds sadly. 

"If it makes you feel better, you just did more than Zayn did the entire day, and he was actually here."

It makes Harry crack a smile, and he allows himself to be shooed into the living room. He hands the remote to Harry so he can find something for them to watch. After a moment, Louis nudges his though with his toes. 

"You're hair looks nice," he says finally. "I like it. A lot."

Harry's face flushes and he doesn't look away from the TV. "Thank you. It was -- it's different."

"Don't you like it?"

"I do," Harry whispers. Absently, he grips the ends of it with his free hand. "It's just. . . it was hard. To let go of it. Which I know sounds really stupid, but -- "

"No," Louis interrupts sternly. "No, it doesn't." He nibbles on his bottom lip for a long moment as he decides if he should say what he wants to or not. He decides it couldn't hurt. "When I -- when your mom and I saw that tape of you, the one with you in the convenience store, you had a buzz cut. Is that. . . Is that why it was so hard?"

Harry nods shortly and sets the remote down next to him. Some game show that Louis doesn’t recognize is on. Harry’s hands are fumbling with one another in his lap. "I'm pretty sure they did it to, like. Show us that they owned us. To dehumanize us. It -- it was one of the first things that happened to me, and I remember thinking, 'What the hell are they doing?' At first, I. . . It took me, um, a little while to understand what I got caught up in. I thought I was just kidnapped by some, like, psycho serial killer. I didn't know they would care about my -- my  _ hair _ , of all things. And I just -- it was really scary for me. It's one of the things I remember the clearest, and that's why I didn't want to cut it again in the first place."

Louis can't imagine how fucking terrified Harry was when he finally grasped onto the fact that he was caught up in sex trafficking. Louis' mind immediately goes to thinking about how petrified Harry must've been the first time he was raped, but Louis instantly pushes it away. He doesn't ever want to think about that.

"My mom cut it for me," Harry mumbles. 

Louis tries to smile for him even though he isn't looking. "She did a pretty good job."

"Thanks, Lou."

A comfortable silence falls over them as they watch the show. It's hard to figure out exactly what the rules of the game are or how to play, so he settles for focusing on the trivia questions. He hardly knows any of the answers. 

After a few minutes, Harry shifts around and lays down next to Louis. He cuddles into his side, his head pressed against Louis' rib cage and his knees curled up so they're pressing against Louis' thigh. Louis drapes an arm over him after grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch that Jay put there before she left and covering them both up. Harry snuggles further into him in response. 

"How long do you wanna stay here?" Louis asks quietly, caressing his hand over the back of Harry's bicep underneath the covers. 

"As long as you'll have me," Harry replies.

Louis laughs lightly. "Guess you're gonna be here for a while then."

It takes Nick two months of Louis being gone to reach out. _ I'm ready to set up some sort of system with ellie and moose _ , is all the text reads. No 'hi', no 'how are you', no 'I hate your guts'. Just a clean cut, heartless text about their pets, the only linking them together anymore. The text comes through while Harry is sitting at his small dining room table, face scrunched in deep thought as he concentrates on a baking video he's watching online. Apparently, Harry was watching the Food Network at home and decided he wanted to try and make a chocolate souffle. They've already attempted and failed twice. 

He stares at the text, heart racing. He wanted Nick to be the first one to reach out on his own terms, but not like this. He hoped for an invitation to a coffee shop or something. He knows he doesn't deserve that, though. He broke Nick's heart and trust; you can't expect to come back from that. 

"Lou, come here," Harry mumbles, squinting at the screen of his phone. He waves Louis over impatiently when Louis doesn't move right away. Louis sets his phone down and comes to Harry. Once he's near, Harry wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him closer. "This lady explains it well. We just have to listen to her."

"Or we can just make brownies," Louis says, because he really, really is over this stupid recipe. 

"Don't be a quitter," Harry scowls. He rewinds the video to the beginning so Louis can listen for himself. He's not exactly surprised that he can't focus on the tutorial with Nick's text weighing heavy on his brain. 

He ends up texting Nick back the next day at work. 

He didn't mean to put it off for so long, but Harry was in such a good mood yesterday -- at one point, he'd grabbed Louis' wrists and demanded that he danced with him to Taylor Swift in the middle of the kitchen -- that he didn't want to waste it by wracking his brain on how to reply to Nick. And that right there, he realizes, is why breaking things off with him was better for the both of them. 

_ We can maybe trade them off every two weeks? _ he replies, trying his best not to sound demanding. It's just, he can't go longer than two weeks without seeing Moose and Ellie, and if he shortens it to one week, that might be too confusing for the animals. He doesn't want them stressed. 

Nick replies a few hours later when Louis' just leaving work.  _ Sure. I leave for a work trip the 30th and i wanted to keep them at mine until i leave since i'll be gone for three months.  _

It's only the tenth today, so that means Nick will have them for twenty days, and Louis' not sure he's happy with that. But three months is a really long time, and that entire time, he'll have both the animals, so really, it's only fair. He texts Nick that he'll drop them off tomorrow morning before work, and Nick texts him back a short  _ ok _ . 

It's more than awkward seeing Nick for the first time in two months. More awkward than Louis imagined it would be, and that's saying a lot, because Louis was expecting it. When he knocks, Nick doesn't come, so he goes to knock again and the door opens when Louis' fist in the air, and Nick gives him a strange look. Louis tries to brush it off, but it's hard to do it gracefully when Moose is tugging on his leash to go sniff at Nick's feet, which then shakes Ellie in his arms and makes her irritated. Nick kind of just stares blankly, watches him struggle with an excited Moose tugging on his arm and an angry Ellie wriggling in his arms. 

"Hi," he breathes out finally, and Nick quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Hi."

They stand in silence, and Louis knows Nick is doing this on purpose. He could easily take Moose's leash and grab Ellie and slam the door in Louis' face, but he wants to see Louis struggle, to see him sit in the mess he's made of them. It's a little cruel, although Louis knows he doesn't deserve anything else. 

Louis clears his throat. "I wasn't if you had any toys here for either of them, or -- or food, so I brought a bag -- "

"It's fine," Nick interrupts, voice cold. He crosses his arms over his chest, and not in the way Harry does when he's uncomfortable, but in a way that he's trying to use to make Louis squirm. It's working. "I went out and bought new things. A lot of their things were old, anyway."

"Oh," Louis mumbles, cheeks burning. "Okay. That's fine. I'll just -- " He manages to hand Ellie over to Nick without letting go of Moose's leash, and Nick takes her, his hand immediately going to scratch at her cheeks. She starts purring and rubbing back against his knuckles. 

After another half minute of awkward silence, Nick sets Ellie down in the house and grabs Moose's leash from Louis' hand, purposefully not touching him. It makes Louis feel unwanted. Dirty, almost. God, Nick's being an asshole. 

"I guess I'll go," Louis says quietly once Moose is in the house. 

"Wait," Nick says, and Louis' heart builds up hope. Nick disappears into his house -- it hurts not to think of it as theirs anymore -- and while he's gone, Louis' mind is racing with thoughts. Maybe Nick got him a gift or something, or maybe he's returning something Louis forgot, or maybe he's going to apologize for being so cold, or -- 

"Here's your ring," Nick says coldly when he returns. He's holding out Louis' engagement ring like it's trash that reeks, his arm stretched out away from his body and only the tips of two fingers daring to touch it. 

Louis gulps involuntarily as he takes the ring from Nick. He folds his hand over it protectively, and Nick crosses his arms again. He's not wearing his ring anymore, although Louis wasn't expecting him to be. He thinks that'd be slightly inappropriate.

"You can do whatever you want with it," Nick tells him, almost snapping. "Sell it, I don't care. You can probably make some pretty decent money off of it, considering I spent -- "

"Nick," Louis snaps, because he doesn't deserve _ this  _ much shit, does he?

Nick shrugs. "I'm just saying. Sell it, throw it out, whatever. You can give it to Harry for all I care."

Louis recoils at that, at his words and the venom in them. That's not fair. That's not right. Tears wet his eyes, but he's determined not to give Nick what he wants by letting them fall. Nick's not like this usually, he's just hurting, Louis understands that. But it doesn't give him the right to treat Louis like shit. 

"I understand you're mad," Louis starts, voice wavering slightly. Before he can continue, Nick scoffs. 

"Mad that my fiancé left me for some damaged goods?" He laughs. "Nah. Why would I be mad about that?"

"Don't do that," Louis hisses, feeling breathless. His brain has been slated of all sensible thoughts and he's left scrambling to find words. "Don't -- I know I hurt you. I know you think that I -- " He takes a deep breath and clenches his fists. "I didn't cheat on you," he says, as if it would make any difference to Nick. "I never cheated on you. And I didn't leave you for Harry -- "

"Don't you fucking dare say his name to me," Nick snaps, loud. He looks dangerous like this, all angry and hurt and bleeding wounds. Louis hates it. "You would have cheated on me if he was healthy. You can't say you wouldn't, because fuck, Louis, you're a lot of things, but you're not an idiot. If you thought he'd kiss you back, you would've done it. The  _ second _ you saw him in his hospital room, you would've done it."

It's getting harder to keep the tears back. "I wouldn't have." He sounds pitiful. 

Nick shakes his head at him dismissively. "You made me look like an idiot. I -- I was trying to help you to get closer with him at first. I tried telling you what the right things to say were. You let me coddle you when he was ignoring you. You let me prance around his sister's engagement party like I belonged there. You fucking let me be his replacement, and you knew the _ entire time _ that the  _ minute  _ he came back into your life, you would toss me aside like I was nothing."

"That's not true," Louis cries. "That's not -- Nick, I loved you. I was in love with you, I -- "

"You should go," Nick cuts in, a ghost of a smirk on his face. "Don't want you to be late for work." He steps back into his house and closes the door without a second glance at Louis. Louis stands there, the ring heavy in his hand, unsure of where he's supposed to go from here.

The entire way to work, all Louis can think about is if Nick is lashing out or if he's always been that cruel. If it's the former, Louis can get over it and move past it, and if it's the latter. . . He's never seen that side of Nick before. Even when they got into arguments, Nick was almost always gentle with him. Louis never doubted for a second of their relationship that Nick loved him, but after that, he can't be so sure. 

The entire day at work, he feels nauseous. He can't stop thinking the worst, that Nick is never going to get off this vengeful path and will go as far as trying to take full custody of the animals or something. He doesn't understand any of this; he let Nick be the one to reach out first. He would've given Nick months to cope if that's what he needed. All Nick took was two. Why did he reach out if he was still so angry with Louis? Is taking the animals for nineteen days just a way to hurt Louis more? He doesn't know. 

He calls Lottie on his lunch break, and he barely has time to scratch the surface of the conversation he had with Nick before she's telling him that she has to go. He kind of feels like Harry then, that everyone around him is this well put together adult while he's miles behind everyone else. The only reason he didn't call Harry over Lottie was because he's at a therapy appointment. 

He goes to the Styles' house after work, even though he kind of wants to make Harry come to his. Harry's at his apartment every other day now, occasionally even spending the night. He's grown dependent on Harry the same way Harry's dependent on him, and it feels good to know that he can count on somebody. Maybe Harry's not quite at the place where he can fix any of the emotional turmoil Louis has faced in the wake of the break up, but him just being there helps more than Louis can put into words. 

Anne lets him go find Harry without asking any questions. He walks up the stairs and to Harry's room, the door not shut completely. He can hear Harry talking quietly to Penny ask he waves around her toy and she runs around to catch it. He moves it too fast for her to get, but she doesn't give up. 

"Come on, babe, you can get it, come on, come on. . ."

Louis smiles watching Harry grin at her when she finally successfully pounces on it. Louis watches him watch Penny for a few more seconds before Louis knocks on the edge of the door frame with his knuckle. 

"What are you doing here?" he asks when he sees Louis, grinning. Louis almost feels bad for Penny with how fast Harry forgets about her toy in favor of focusing solely on Louis. She doesn't seem to mind, going to attack the toy from where it's on the floor. 

"Just wanted to stop by and see you."

Harry smiles even wider as he pats his bed. Louis complies and plops on Harry's bed, flat on his chest, and Harry laughs and lays down next to him. God, Louis thought they'd never get here. He truly thought Harry was going to be tainted forever, locked inside himself underneath layers and layers of distrust and fear. To an extent, he's still there, but not with Louis. Not with his mom, or his sister, or Robin, either. And maybe it's wrong, but Louis honestly would be okay if he never gets better than this. Yes, he'd want more for Harry for the sake of himself, it's just, this right here feels perfect. 

Louis smiles lazily at him. "You make me really happy, you know that?"

"Ditto," Harry murmurs, and then he turns on his back so he's not looking Louis in the eye any more. He's quiet for a little while, and Louis doesn't think he's doing anything more than enjoying Louis' company, but then he clears his throat and Louis realizes he was trying to work himself up to say something. "Do you. . . Do you ever think about, like. Me moving in with you?"

Louis frowns and sits up so his weight in resting on his elbow. That's not at all what he was expecting to hear. Harry's around his apartment a lot, sure, and he likes it there and feels safe. Maybe Harry's taking that and thinking that means he's ready for that, although Louis  _ knows  _ he's not. 

"I mean, of course I think about it, but, like, Harry. . . You're not ready for that."

"Don't tell me what I'm ready for and what I'm not," Harry mumbles as he sits up. He crosses his legs, his back hunched, and Louis can't see his face anymore. "I didn't say I was ready for it, did I?"

Louis sighs. "Well, no, but -- "

"So please don't put words in my mouth." He exhales loudly and shrugs. "I was just wondering if you ever thought about it. 'Cause, like. I do. A lot. And I -- when I  _ am  _ ready, I was just, like. Wondering. If that, um. Option was on the table."

"Of course it is," he says quietly. "If I feel like you can handle it, then I wouldn't mind. But I'd want your mom, your therapist and I all in agreement that you could take the change."

Harry makes a sad little sound. Louis shifts a little, and he can see him smiling sadly. "I wish you would treat me like a normal person sometimes," he whispers, and Louis feels a sharp pang in his chest.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be overbearing."

Harry shakes his head. "It's not that. I just wished that we could hang out like normal and you wouldn't have to constantly be in, like, guard dog mode."

Louis laughs. "I'd be a shit guard dog, love." He knows what Harry's trying to say, though, that he's trying to express his expressions seriously, and he doesn't want Harry thinking he's poking fun at that. "I understand what you're saying."

"Thank you."

Louis sits up so he's side by side with Harry and he nudges his shoulders with Harry's. He reaches over him to grab the remote lying on his bed and hands it to Harry. "Turn something on that we can watch, and I'll try to keep my mothering to a minimum."

Harry rolls his eyes and nudges his shoulder against Louis'. He starts clicking through the channels until he eventually settles on  _ Friends _ and lays back down in bed. By the end of the first episode, Harry's squirmed over and deposited himself against Louis' side. He doesn't realize until he's on his way home after dinner that he hadn't thought of that horrid conversation with Nick once the entire time he was with Harry.

It's quiet around his apartment without Moose and Ellie. 

It's strange, because, like. They aren't even loud animals. Not really. Moose can get a little vocal when he wants something or when someone knocks on the door, but other than that and play time, he's a fairly quiet dog. Ellie screams at him like she's chastising him when her food bowl is empty for more than five minutes, and sometimes just for attention, although she's pretty quiet normally too. So really, it shouldn't sound quiet to him. There shouldn't be a noticeable difference. Still, Louis can't figure out another way to describe the feeling other than it being quiet. 

It's why he calls Harry, once again going to him for a little emotional support. He wonders if Harry realizes that, or if he thinks Louis simply wants to hang out. And Louis does, of course he does, but a lot of it is Louis seeking out that endless supply of affection and comfort Harry can give him. 

"I was just about to text you," Harry says once he answers. His voice has a hard lining to it. "Can you come pick me up?"

Louis furrows his eyebrows and settles back into his chair. Harry sounds mad. Demanding, almost, like he can't stand another second in his house. Louis wants to say _ yes, of course, I'll be there as soon as possible _ , but he also wants to get a feel for the situation first. "What's going on, Harry? You sound angry."

"My mom's mad at me," he says, and from the background, Anne shouts, "I'm not mad at you, Harry! Would you please stop saying that?" Once she's finished, Harry sniffs and repeats, "My mom's mad at me."

"Why?" Anne and Harry have had their fair share of fights since Harry's been back, but it's never gotten to the point that Harry wants to make a dramatic exit by going to Louis for saving. 

There's some shuffling, and then a soft thud like a door shutting. "She just is, like. I didn't even do anything, and she started, like, yelling at me. I don't know. I just don't really want to be here right now."

"Harry," Louis says evenly, trying to hide how much he thinks that's untrue. If Harry gets the sense that Louis' accusing him of something, then he's going to blow up and freak out that he's on the outs with both his mom and Louis. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"If you come pick me up, sure."

Louis sighs. "I'm not getting in the middle of you and your mom without knowing exactly what I'm getting into, babe."

"Fine," Harry grumbles, and then it goes quiet for a little while. It's okay, Louis thinks. He can wait. After a few minutes of listening to Harry breathe and staring at the discolored mark on his wall, Harry finally tells him. "She thinks I'm getting bad again," he mumbles, all the anger stripped from his voice. Now, he just sounds embarrassed. Sad. 

"Why's that? I -- " Louis pauses, trying to figure out where Anne could be coming from. From Louis' perspective, Harry's been perfectly normal. He saw Harry only two days ago, and they cuddled one the couch and watched TV. Harry was even making plans for the future by asking Louis if he could move in with him one day; that's progress in Louis' mind. "I haven't noticed anything off."

"Exactly," Harry huffs, and Louis cringes. He didn't mean to take Harry's side in this so quickly. 

"Well, wait a minute, please," Louis tells him. "Why does she think that? She lives with you, H. She'd know better than I would, right?"

"Yeah, but she wouldn't know better than  _ me _ . I told her, I feel fine. I don't feel as, like, depressed or whatever as I used to. She's overreacting."

Louis gets the sneaking suspicion that Harry's purposefully withholding something from him in order to keep Louis on his side, which isn't going to work. Louis isn't stupid. He knows how to read Harry. "Can you please tell me what happened, then?"

Harry huffs again. "Louis. . ."

"Please. I won't judge, promise. I just want to understand better."

It takes a little while for Harry to choose his words. "I had, like, a nightmare two nights ago, and it -- it was a really bad one, I know it was, I'm not denying that. I had a panic attack when I woke up and I got really lightheaded and stuff, but, like -- I have nightmares, it's not that big of a deal. I mean, I really wish I didn't, and they really fuck me up, but they aren't anything new. And they aren't something that's fair to use against me by saying I'm slipping again."

Louis chews on his bottom lip, listening intently. "Okay. . ."

"And, well. I didn't sleep last night, okay, and -- "

"Wait, wait," Louis interrupts, shaking his head. "You can't just breeze by that like it's not important. If you're not sleeping, your mom has a right -- "

"It's not a big deal," Harry disagrees. He sounds extremely annoyed. "It's  _ one _ night. And it's not like I sat in bed and cried about it. I didn't freak out about it. It wasn't this huge event like she's making it out to be. I just didn't want to go to bed."

“Okay," Louis murmurs, not fully convinced. He knows there's a bigger part of this story coming, he can feel it, and Harry's not going to confide in him if he thinks Louis' already taking Anne's side. 

"I ate breakfast today. Not all of it, but. And I ate lunch. And I showered. And, like. Like, I kind of started biting my nails again, and I accidentally made one of my fingers bleed, but, like, I -- I'm  _ fine _ . I don't -- she's acting like I'm completely going downhill again, and I'm not. I'd  _ feel _ it if I was, wouldn't I?"

Maybe Harry's right: Anne might be overreacting slightly. Not sleeping for a night and reverting back to harmful habits isn't good by any means, but Harry ate breakfast and lunch. He showered. That's a lot more than he used to be able to do. And Harry can't help his nightmares, so that's not exactly fair to use to claim he's regressing. Having a panic attack from his nightmare isn't great either, but maybe that's unavoidable. Louis has to agree that Harry isn't doing terrible again, but maybe Anne's picking up on other things that Harry isn't even aware of. There's also a possibility that Anne is overreacting because she's stressed and cares for her son, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. But Harry's acting awfully defensive and sketchy, so Louis' not going to take his side in this just yet. 

Harry lets out a long sigh. "There's something else I want to talk to you about, something kind of serious, so, like. Can you  _ please _ come pick me up? I want to stay at yours tonight."

"Love, you can't run away from your problems. I don't have a problem with you coming over here if your mom doesn't, but -- "

"I just want you, is that really so bad? Do I need more of an explanation than that? I'm sick and tired of every little thing I say being questioned. All I want is to be with you, and you're turning it into something different."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." Louis stands up, his legs protesting slightly since he's been sitting for so long. "Look, I'll come by, okay? But I'm not making any promises. I want to speak with Anne first, and if she has any ill feeling about you coming to mine, I can't allow you to. I'm sorry."

" _ Louis _ ," Harry pleads. "Please don't take my mom's side over mine. Please don't do that to me."

Louis frowns. "Try not to get worked up over it now, alright? We'll figure it out. If your mom doesn't feel comfortable with you staying at mine, I'll stay at yours. Don't worry about it, okay?"

"Okay," Harry mumbles, sounding pouty. "Bye, then. See you soon."

"Bye, love." He hangs up and tucks his phone in his back pocket before crossing the room and sliding his shoes on. He's been sitting around in his pajamas since he got off work, so he doesn't look the greatest, but he's sure Harry's not going to mind. He leaves his apartment, gets into his car, and drives. 

Anne looks furious when she opens the door. 

"Of course he brought you into this," she snaps, and Louis stands there, not sure what she's implying. "He knows I'm right, so he's trying to get you to agree with him."

Louis raises his hands in defense. "I don't know the whole story, okay? He knows I came here to talk to you. He knows I'm not going to follow his word blindly. So, can you just, like. Tell me what the fuck is going on?" He laughs a little, and Anne sighs. 

She tells him that Harry's put up his wall again. That he's not that much different, but everything he does or says is calculated and done cautiously. His paranoia has gone up drastically since his last nightmare, which isn't necessarily unusual, although it adds to everything else. He'd seemed more jittery and anxious in the last day and a half, and he's become standoffish and short with her again.

"Not with Robin, not with you, not with Gemma," she says, smiling sadly. "Just me. Whenever he gets like this, he's always just angry at me."

"Because he knows no matter what he does or says to you, you'll never stop loving him," Louis tells her, hoping it's somewhat comforting for her. He weighs things out in his head before giving up and sighing. "So should I or should I not allow him to stay at mine for the night?"

She shrugs. "I think he'll sleep for you. And I don't think he'll be as prickly with you. But I worry he's going to have a meltdown and that he's going to be petrified when I'm not right there to help him through it."

Louis nods, understanding that. Harry's more motivated to please Louis than he is to please his mom. If Louis begs him to sleep tonight, he just might. But if Harry were to have a breakdown without Anne near, he's going to be even more distraught about it. 

"You're only a phone call away," Louis says, shrugging, unsure. "I don't live far from here. If he absolutely needs you, you can come to him. He should be okay."

"You're not wrong." She scrubs a hand over her face and then nods. "Okay. He can stay at yours. I don't mind. Just keep me updated, alright?"

"Of course," Louis tells her. He shifts his weight on his feet, contemplating what to say next. "I know that none of this is particularly good," he says slowly, "but you don't honestly think he's getting bad-bad again, do you?"

She shakes her head hesitantly. "No. I don't. I think he's having a little bit of a slip up, but nothing like before. And I think he'll bounce back a lot quicker than he has in the past. He has a therapist, he's mentally and emotionally healthier, and he's closer with you now. He should be okay. I just. . . It upsets me when he gets so angry with me like he did today."

"I know, but I'm sure he doesn't mean it."

"I know he doesn't." She pats Louis' shoulder. "Why don't you go and talk to him. If he still wants to spend the night at yours, tell him to back an overnight bag."

Louis nods and goes upstairs. Harry's sitting in his bed, staring out at the window in his room. He looks normal. A little tired and fidgety, but normal. He even smiles at Louis when he sees that he's there. Louis' pretty sure that both Anne and Harry overreacted in this situation. 

"Can I come over, then?" Harry asks, sounding hopeful. Louis nods, and Harry's smile widens. "I promise I feel okay. I'm not running away from my problems. I just. . . need a break from here right now. And I wanted to see you."

"Okay," Louis says. "I trust you."

"I won't let myself get bad again," Harry tells him. He looks every bit of determined as he sounds. "I'll ask for help if I need it."

Now Louis' the one smiling, because Harry sounds like he means it. Not only can Louis rely on Anne to take care of Harry, but now he can rely on  _ Harry  _ to look out for Harry. That's amazing. "Okay, love. Pack a bag and then we can go."

For the most part, Harry is completely normal. He's exhausted, which makes him a little quiet, and he snapped at Louis once, but other than that, he's acting like himself. So a lot of whatever Anne was experiencing is probably due to Harry feeling trapped in the house and something else. Louis can work with that. 

Harry's head is resting against Louis' stomach, and Louis is running his hand through Harry's hair absently. They've been binge watching a season of Masterchef and he's pretty sure Harry's been going in and out of sleep for the last half hour. Whenever he wakes back up, he jolts a little, confused, and then relaxes again. He's not letting himself fall asleep completely -- the nightmare must've been pretty bad then - and Louis knows it's only a matter of time before he has to convince Harry to go under entirely. It's only six p.m., but Harry didn't sleep at all the night before. 

"I wish Ellie was here," Harry murmurs sleepily. 

Louis smiles sadly. "Me too, Haz. She's a good cuddle buddy."

He goes quiet again, and Louis keeps petting at his hair. 

About forty-five minutes later, Harry abruptly sits up and gives Louis a miserable look. He looks pale, the smears of purple under his eyes only punctuating it. "My head hurts," he mumbles as he pulls one of his legs up to his chest. He blinks slowly at Louis, and Louis smiles apologetically at him. 

"It's 'cause you're tired, babe." 

Harry squints his eyes at him. "Obviously," he says, but he doesn't sound annoyed. He glances at the TV and sighs. "If I go to sleep, I'm just going to have another nightmare."

Louis frowns. He reaches over to grab Harry's hand and squeezes. "You don't know that for sure."

Harry looks unimpressed. "I guess not. But, like. It's still a possibility."

"Anything's a possibility. You can't fear everything, love."

Harry laughs quietly. He glances at Louis, a small, sad smile on his face. "Tell my brain that. It doesn't seem to understand that very well."

Harry wasn't anxious before he went missing. He was anything but. He loved people and trying new things. He loved life and he loved love and he never, ever didn't sleep because he was scared of his own head. After all this time, no matter how many times Louis realizes how much Harry has changed, it's like a swift punch to the gut every time. 

Louis squeezes his hand again. Harry ducks his head. "Would you rather sleep in my bed or the couch? It's perfectly fine either way." Harry shrugs, and Louis brushes his thumb over his knuckles in hopes of providing him with some comfort. "You have to tell me, H. I can't read your mind."

"The couch," Harry decides slowly. "But only if you lay with me."

The wind up with Harry gathered in Louis' arms, his the back of his head resting against Louis' chest. Harry's nervously fiddling with the sleeve of Louis' t-shirt, which Louis is kind of thankful for because he knows Harry's fallen asleep when his fingers stop moving. Louis stays very still, careful not to wake him, and hopes silently that Harry gets at least a few hours of good sleep. 

While Harry rests, Louis thinks. He thinks about their first date at the carnival, and their second one at the movies. He can't remember what movie they watched, and it feels like he's letting Harry down. Harry would know. He'll have to ask him when he wakes. On their tenth date, they went ice skating and Louis got so cold that Harry dragged them to the car and Harry squeezed onto the same chair with him and cuddled him close, the heat blasting around them. Their dates were always so nice. 

He thinks about Christmases. When Louis was nine and Harry was seven, Louis had shoved Harry into a pile of snow for no reason and Anne got so mad at him, but Harry just blinked up at him and then asked to play with Louis' Lego kit that he got that day. Louis was fourteen when he got Harry a too-expensive guitar and Harry cried and cried and cried, thanking Louis profusely. When Louis was sixteen, Fizzy introduced her new boyfriend at the Christmas party and Harry kept narrowing his eyes at him and asking him all types of questions. Those were one of the moments that had Louis thinking  _ shit, maybe I want him to be more than a friend _ .

Their first kiss was rushed and sudden. They were laying out in Harry's backyard, and then they were kissing. Harry was terrified at first, and then laughed when they pulled a part and told Louis to feel his chest. His heart was pounding frantically.

Jay was critical of their relationship at first, which completely confused Louis. He thought she would wink at him and tell him she already knew, and he got all defensive when she expressed her concerns. She adored Harry, but she was worried that if something bad happened in their relationship, it would strain their friendship too. She didn't want Louis or Harry to lose their best friend. But Louis can confidently say she was wrong. Nothing can severe their bond. They went through six years without each other, and here they are, curled up on the couch together, even after everything. They're indestructible. 

Harry wakes up about three hours later, and he looks panicky. Louis quickly smooths that over, and then Harry goes to the bathroom and comes back to the couch. He snuggles back up with Louis, his hair tickling Louis' chin. 

"Are you awake?" Louis asks a few minutes later, voice less than a whisper just in case Harry's fallen back to sleep. 

Harry nods into his chest. 

"What movie did we see on our second date?"

Immediately, Harry answers. " _ Up _ . Remember, we ran into Sophia and Liam there? And Liam knew instantly we were on a date, 'cause you were wearing your only nice pair of shoes."

Louis smiles softly. He still has those pair of shoes in his closet, and they’re still his designated Nice Shoes. Weddings, work meetings, Harry's fake-funeral; the Nice Shoes were laced tightly onto his feet, even if they're a little worn by now. It's not his fault he hates shoe shopping and hasn't grown since the tenth grade. 

Harry falls back to sleep, and Louis spends the next few minutes purchasing an Amazon Prime account so they can watch  _ Up  _ together when he wakes again. 

It's at dinnertime the next day that Harry confesses what all of this is about. 

He's sitting across from Louis at the table, his shoulders hunched over the plate of food before him. He listens to Louis chatter on about his day at work intently, but when Louis drifts off, Harry clears his throat. 

"Remember when I said to you on the phone that I wanted to talk to you about something kind of serious?"

Louis freezes mid-chew. He forgot about that, and, to be honest, he wishes Harry had too. They've been having a lovely time together; he doesn't want that to be fucked up. "Yeah," he replies, once he's finishing chewing. "Is that -- is that something you wanted to tell me about now?"

Harry won't look up from the table. "It's really stupid, so, like. Sorry."

"It's not stupid if it's made you upset. Don't apologize for silly things. Just tell me, yeah?" He sets his fork down and folds his hands together on the table. He wants to touch Harry, but he can't read Harry's mood with him looking down like that. "I promise I won't think it's stupid."

Harry sighs. "I was, like. Watching TV the other day, in my room. I was in a crappy mood, I don't even remember why. But I was switching through the channels, and there was this movie on that looked somewhat interesting, so I left it. I don't know what it was, like, I don't remember what it was called. But I was watching it, and one of the characters in the movie took these -- these pills, and then all of their problems just disappeared, and, like, -- " He curses and wipes a hand over his face. "I know you don't get it. My, um. My drug problem. Like, I know you don't really understand it. But it just -- it just reminded me of how well heroin took the edge off of everything. And I won't go back to it, I won't, but. It's just made me feel all. . . turned inside out, or something. I haven't had a fix in months, but the cravings can get so strong still."

Louis blinks a few times. He didn't expect that. He didn't realize heroin cravings was something Harry still struggled with. Although, that's not really the kind of thing that just goes away, is it? He takes a few breaths to clear his mind -- he needs to be level-headed for Harry's sake -- and gathers his thoughts. "Heroin doesn't fix anything, Harry."

Harry scoffs sadly and shrugs. He still won't look at Louis. "It made everything foggy. It made things hurt less."

"It made you rip your skin open from scratching yourself so hard," Louis counters, and Harry snaps his neck up to look at him, eyes wide in confusion. 

"I never told you about that," Harry says, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Does my -- I know my mom tells you a lot of things, but she doesn't -- I thought she didn't tell you about all the dark stuff like that. She said she'd let me tell you those things in my own time. When did she -- "

"Gemma told me about it," Louis tells him calmly. "Your mom doesn't tell me anything too personal. Gemma and I were talking, and it just came up. I'm sorry."

"Oh," Harry murmurs, looking back down at the table. He nods a few times. "That's okay. That's fine. Sorry, I just -- I thought -- "

"It's alright," Louis whispers, and Harry nods again. It's goes quiet, and then Louis remembers oh, right, he's supposed to be being useful right now. Harry confided in him. "Are you certain you won't use again? Like, would you be more comfortable if I stayed home from work tomorrow if you stay the night again so you won't be tempted?"

Harry shakes his head. "No. No it's not like that. I don't think I'm ever gonna go actively seek it out again, I just -- " He sighs loudly. "I can't deny the fact heroin would make things a whole lot easier."

"What things need to be easier right now?" Louis asks, confused. "If you got through almost a year of all this sober, you don't need heroin  _ now _ . You're done with the hard part, right?"

"I suppose."

"And I  _ know  _ you don't want to go through the withdrawal period again."

Harry cringes and looks up at him. "Definitely not," he agrees. He shrugs a shoulder and picks his fork back up. He pokes at his noodles. "I don't know why it's bothering me so much. Like, I know I'm not gonna go shoot up again, and I know it's pointless to want it, and I know you would kill me if I did that again, but I still can't help but think about it. And thinking about it makes me annoyed at myself, makes me frustrated, and then I act like a dick towards my mom when all she ever does is try and help me, and -- "

"Hey," Louis says softly. Harry stops talking. "Your mom understands. She doesn't take it personal. And it's completely normal to feel like that, okay? It'll pass, so long as you don't act on it."

"Okay."

"And you're right, I would kill you if you did it again."

Harry laughs quietly. "Okay."

"And I'm really glad you told me about this."

"I figured I should tell somebody." He shifts so he's leaning his head against his hand with his elbow and the table, and he sighs dramatically, giving Louis a playful look. "It's always something with me, huh?"

Louis laughs. "It keeps me on my toes."

"You're almost thirty," Harry reminds. "I gotta keep you young somehow."

Louis glares at him. "Don't push it." His birthday's next month. He's turning twenty-nine. That's disgusting to think about. 

Abruptly, Harry stands with his half-full plate and heads to the garbage. Louis watches him, and when Harry goes to dump the rest of the plate in the trash, Louis tells him to wait. When Harry looks back at him, confused, Louis narrows his eyes at him. 

"You barely at half of that. I don't know if you ate breakfast or lunch, so I'd really like it if you sat and ate the rest of it."

Harry frowns at him. "I  _ told _ you I ate breakfast and lunch. And I'm not hungry anymore. Plus, I thought I'd save room for dessert. I found a new recipe online I wanted to try."

Louis sighs. He can't keep up with Harry sometimes, but that's nothing new. "Fine," he says, "but don't throw all that food away. Put it in the fridge and eat it tomorrow or something."

Harry mockingly solutes him and does as he's told, and they spend the next hour making a chocolate brownie cake. Once they're finished with that and waiting for it to set, Harry knocks Louis' hip with his. Louis glances at him from where he's cleaning off a spatula. 

"Can I stay the night again tonight?"

Louis bites down on his lip and goes back to focusing on the plate. "Talk to your mom about it first. If she's fine with it, so am I." Harry reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, and before he can call Anne, he stops him. "You aren't, like. You aren't trying to avoid her or something, are you? You still like it at home?"

Harry looks confused. "Yeah, home is fine. And no, I'm not avoiding her. Why?"

"I just want to make sure everything's okay, is all," Louis says, giving him a reassuring smile. "Call your mom, see what she says. If she says you can, we can watch a movie or something."

Harry smiles at him, and at first, Louis thinks he's simply happy that Louis' open to him staying the night. Harry moves closer and kisses the top of Louis' shoulder, and Louis freezes, not wanting to scare him off but also confused and wanting to see what Harry's thinking. He tilts his head slightly, enough to see Harry's flushed face and unsure expression, and Louis just nods at him to let him know he hasn't done anything wrong.

"Thanks for being so protective over me," Harry whispers, glancing away. Before Louis can respond, Harry makes his escape towards the living room, and Louis swears the spot on his shoulder where Harry kissed is tingling in happiness, like even his skin missed Harry's intimate touch.

Harry spends the night that night, and the night after, and Louis' pretty sure Harry would've stayed over the next night too, if it hadn't been for the fact that Harry is uncomfortable with the idea of using Louis' shower. It's odd, the small things that Harry still can't do, but Louis figures it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. It's like yeah, Harry won't lay in Louis' bed, but he'll Louis cuddle with him on the couch, so oh well. 

It goes on like that for a little while, Harry popping in and out of his apartment to spend the night. Sometimes, it's just for a night. Other times, he stays for three nights in a row until he absolutely has to go home to shower because he stinks. Anne worries that Harry hates her or something, even after Harry goes back to normal and stops lashing out on her. Harry's therapist tells her that she's pretty sure Harry's just sick and tired of being in the same house, living out the same routine, day after day. Harry wants to try new things, and randomly deciding to spend the night at Louis' is about as spontaneous as Harry can get. 

It's the end of November, and Louis' dreading two things: turning twenty-nine next month, and having to face Nick again. 

Nick texted him last night while him and Harry were watching _ Tangled _ that Louis could pick up Moose and Ellie at five the next day. Louis wants to be mad at the late notice, but he can't be, especially since Nick purposefully picked a time that would work with Louis' normal routine of getting off work at four. Nick could've picked any time of the day and simply told Louis to figure out, and he didn't. 

He's a lot more nervous walking up to Nick's doorstep than he was last time. It still feels weird that this isn't his house anymore. Nick will probably be a lot meaner than he was last time, much more bitter. What if he flat out refuses to give Ellie or Moose back? What if he wants the ring back again? What if -- 

Nick opens the door without Louis having to knock, and Louis' breath hitches. 

"Hi," Nick says. "Hold on, Moose is outside. I'll go get him." Nick leaves the door open as he goes back inside to fetch Moose, and Louis stands there dumbly. After a moment, Ellie slinks towards the door. She stops a few feet in front of the door and sits, then meows at him loudly. Louis smiles at her, happy to see her again, and he doesn't really care that it's probably inappropriate, but he steps inside to pick her up. He scratches behind her ears and she purrs loudly in response. About a minute later, there is the frantic noise of nails skidding across the hard wood floors, and then there's Moose, wagging his tail at Louis. He doesn't jump up, thankfully. He waits to be pet, looking up at Louis with wide eyes. 

Louis bends down a little to pet his head, and Moose disrupts it by licking at his hand. Ellie is starting to get grumpy in his arms from the way Louis' holding her, but he ignores her for now. And then Nick's there, standing awkwardly a few feet away. Louis considers leaving quickly with the animals and giving Nick a short goodbye. Before he can, Nick clears his throat. 

"I'm sorry for um. For last time. For being such a dick."

Louis doesn't look up at him completely. He doesn't want to see his face, and he doesn't want to see how much or how little the house has changed since he's been gone. "It's alright," he mumbles, still petting Moose. 

Nick sighs. "It's not. I know it's not. I was just. . . hurting." He pauses for a moment, and then laughs quietly. "Still am, if I'm honest."

Louis winces at the hurt in Nick's voice. He did that. He broke Nick's heart. "I'm sorry," Louis whispers, and it's not enough. Nothing he can say will ever be enough.

"I was expecting it, you know," Nick starts, and God, Louis wishes they didn't have to do this. "I knew it was coming, but when it happened, I still felt blindsided by it."

"God, Nick. I'm sorry." He does look up then, but mostly because he feels like he has to. "I shouldn't have done it when I did it, and I should've -- I don't know. I don't know what I should've done. I just know I'm sorry."

Nick looks down at the floor and shrugs. "If you weren't happy, I can't blame you for -- "

"It wasn't that. I was happy, like. I just. . ." Louis huffs out a long breath. "I just couldn't anymore."

Nick looks back up at him, smiling sadly. He looks pale, but it's probably because last time Louis saw him, he was tanned from his trip. Other than that, he looks good. It's not like he's dying because Louis broke up with him. Louis doesn't know why he thought he'd be. "Are you and him back together yet?"

" _ Nick _ ," Louis grits out, his heart pounding in his chest. He feels nauseous. 

"I'm only asking. I just want to know."

Louis releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. "No," he answers. "No, me and him aren't back together."

"Why not?"

"Nick, fuck. Why do you even care?"

Nick lips his lips and then shrugs a shoulder. "Because I need to know it was because of him that you broke off our engagement and that it wasn't because of anything that I did or could've done." Louis hesitates answering; he doesn't want to admit to anything, but he doesn't want to deny Nick closure. Nick laughs again, as hollow as before. "Come on, Louis. I know it's true. I just need to hear you say it."

Louis looks down at his feet, at Moose, and bites down on his lip, hard. He tries to choose words that'll clear Nick's conscious and keep him innocent at the same time. "I guess you can say it was because of Harry," Louis says carefully. "But only because him coming back messed with my head and not because I wanted him instead of you."

"Okay. Okay. I can work with that."

Louis nods jerkily, still keeping his head down. "Okay. Good. I'm glad."

Nick tells him softly that he can go, and Louis nods shakily before turning away and leaving without looking up. Ellie meows unhappily as he sets her in the front seat and closes the door, while Moose pants happily in the back. It went better than he thought it would, and for some weird reason, he almost wishes it hadn't, because that means Nick's almost completely accepted it and moved on. Louis doesn't know why that feels so unexpected and unsettling, but it does.

His birthday comes, and it turns out twenty-nine isn't as bad as he thought it'd be. Mostly because it isn't thirty yet. 

He gets shaken awake by Harry, who spent the last two nights at his apartment. Louis immediately goes into panic-mode -- Harry must have had a bad dream, or he woke up early and had a panic attack, something -- but then Harry crosses his legs and grins, offering out a cupcake with an unlit candle in it. 

Louis laughs, grabbing the cupcake from him. He inspects it as he sits up on his elbow. "Was all the baking we've done this past year leading up to this?"

Harry's grin gets wider. "It hasn't been a year yet, but yes. Everything was preparation for this single cupcake."

They pull themselves out of bed. While Louis goes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth, Harry takes Moose outside so he can go to the bathroom. That was a huge step for him, even though Louis has one of the ground floor apartments where you open your door and boom, there's a tiny front yard and a street. He always keeps the front door wide open when he does this, just in case, and even in the winter. Louis can't blame him for being scared that the minute he goes off on his own, he's going to get scooped up and taken away again. 

Since his birthday is on Christmas Eve, he gets the perk of not working on his birthday, or the day after, so he can get incredibly drunk and not care at all. Except, as he goes into the living room and Harry's standing there with a red-tinted nose and a small smile, he knows that's not going to be the plan for this year. Harry doesn't like drinking anymore. It's not something he's outright said, but it's been implied, so getting drunk is a no for tonight. It's fine; he's pretty sure the one reason why he grew accustomed to getting plastered on his birthdays is because Harry wasn't there to celebrate with him, and now he is, so it's okay for that ritual to come to an end. 

"Are you still up for going to my mom's tonight, H?" Louis asks as he walks to the kitchen. The coffee is already ready, meaning Harry's probably been up for a little while, and the dirty dishes used to bake the cupcakes that are in the sink further prove that narrative. Maybe Louis can convince him to take a nap before they go.

"Yeah," Harry replies. Louis hears him toss Moose's leash somewhere. "I wanna go home for a little while today though. If that's okay."

Louis nods, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "That's fine. I'll drop you off around noon, since it's supposed to snow some around two and I don't like driving in that."

"Okay." He sighs loudly, and Louis turns to see him plop down on the sofa. "I miss Penny," he says, pouting in a way that's supposed to cover up how sad he actually feels. That's been one of the few struggles of Harry staying at Louis' so often; he feels like he's betraying Penny, somehow. He misses her and he worries about her and he feels like he's abandoning her. He wants to start bringing her with him when he stays at Louis' for a few nights, but Louis is pretty sure that'd confuse her and Ellie and Moose too much, so he said no. 

"I know. I'm sorry."

Harry sucks on his bottom lip for a moment and then looks to Louis. He looks a little lost. "Can we only stay at your mom's for a few hours?" he asks, sounding apologetic. "I know it's your birthday, and I know it's your family, and -- "

"Harry, it's fine," Louis interrupts. He doesn't know how Harry went from waking him up in bed with a cupcake to being so apprehensive about everything. Louis just prays this isn't one of his bad days, because as selfish as it sounds, it's his birthday and he wants to have a decent day. "Are you alright?" He comes over and sits down on the couch next to Harry, leaving space between them. When Harry doesn't immediately tuck himself into Louis' side, he knows Harry's not feeling so great mentally. 

"I promise I won't be annoying all day," is all Harry says. 

Louis makes a face at that. "You feeling off isn't annoying, first of all," he starts, trying not to sound scolding but failing. "Second of all, that's not what I asked. Are you okay?"

Harry rolls his eyes and rubs at his face. He sits back into the couch and crosses his arms over his stomach. "This is your first birthday since I've been back. Our first Christmas Eve together again. And, like. I don't want it to be shitty. I don't want me to ruin it. And I'm already ruining it." He looks awfully defeated for eight a.m. in the morning, and Louis knows that he has to stop it before it festers and grows. 

"Nothing you can do could ruin this for me," he tells Harry. Harry rolls his eyes again and looks away, jaw clenched. Louis shakes his head and scoots closer, trying to get through to him. "Nothing, Harry. I swear. You could, like, have a panic attack and throw up all over me and I wouldn't care. I mean, I'd _ care _ , about  _ you _ , but, like. You know what I mean."

"I don't," Harry argues weakly. 

Louis sighs quietly. "For the last six years, I've had the same birthday wish every single year: that you'd come home, or that you were at least safe. And it took a long time to come true, but it did, okay? It's all I ever wanted for six years. And now that you're here, there's literally nothing you could do to ever make me wish you weren't. If you don't wanna go to my mom's, that's fine. We can stay at yours and watch stupid Christmas movies with Penny and your mom, I don't care. The only thing I care about is spending today and tomorrow with you."

Harry laughs wetly. When he looks at Louis, his eyes are watery and the tip of his nose is a dusty red again. "That's so cheesy," he says, laughing again quietly. 

"Yeah, well. I mean it."

Harry smiles sadly at him. He shifts closer to Louis, and Louis takes it as an okay to pull him to his chest. Harry goes willingly, his head resting against Louis' left shoulder and his hand coming up to rest against his right. He makes himself small in Louis' arms -- tries to, at least -- and exhales shakily. 

"Did you really waste all your birthday wishes on me?"

Louis closes his eyes. "It wasn't a waste."

"But did you? Like, you really blew out your candles every year and wished I was okay?"

"Yeah. I did."

"Every year?"

Louis smiles gently. "Every year."

Harry goes quiet for a moment before speaking again. "I like to know that I was still a part of your birthday. That you thought about me every year."

Louis laughs softly, his arms tightening around Harry. "I thought about you every day, love."

"Every day?" Harry asks, his voice tiny.

Louis nods and rests his head on top of Harry's. "Every day."

They sit in a nice, peaceful quiet for a long, long time. The only noise is the eight o'clock news channel that's on in the background. Harry's a comforting weight against his chest, and every breath that fans over his collarbones is a reminder that Louis got his wish, reaffirms that all that time wasn't a waste. 

Around nine, when the news program changes to some soap opera, Harry shifts and presses a faint kiss to the corner of his jaw. He's tense and his hand is fidgety against Louis' shoulder when he moves back to his previous position, but Louis can ignore that because he's pretty sure Harry wants him to. "Happy birthday, Louis," he whispers, and all Louis can do is squeeze him tighter in response.

Harry seems to appreciate the small circle of people Louis had allowed to come to the Tomlinsons Christmas Eve Party/Birthday Party. He knew Harry would immediately feel uncomfortable if it was more than a handful of people, and honestly, Louis didn't mind shortening the guest list from previous years. Aside from Louis' family and Harry's family, the only other people are Daniel, Zayn, Niall, Liam, Jillian, and little baby Elijah. Louis had even been a little prickly about the idea of Daniel being here, but Gemma had assured him that it'd be fine. 

"Happy birthday, Lou," Zayn greets, smiling. He hugs Louis while he settles for squeezing Harry's shoulder. 

"We made cake," Harry tells him, pointing towards the kitchen counter. It surprises Louis, even though it probably shouldn't. Harry seems mostly comfortable around his friends, and Louis being weird about it is only going to make Harry feel weird about it, so he tries to hide his shock. 

Zayn seems to do the same thing. "What kind is it?"

"There's chocolate and vanilla," Harry says, and he's still looking over in the direction of the cake and not at Zayn. So maybe he's not completely comfortable around them after all, which is fine. "And we made some caramel brownies, but they looked weird so we left them in the fridge. But they're there."

Zayn laughs quietly and thanks him before going off in the direction of the cake, while Louis and Harry stay tucked away in the comfy corner of the living room. They're sitting together on a reclining chair, Harry taking up most of the room. There's an old Christmas movie on, but Phoebe and Daisy are talking too loudly with Gemma to hear much of it. Everybody else is in the kitchen or the dining room, and even though there's a whole let less people here than usual, the house manages to get loud. Louis' pretty sure that's just what holidays do to people. 

Tomorrow, Louis' going to spend the day with Harry and his family at their house. It's how things worked before Harry went missing, and how things continued to go even while Harry was gone, so there's no need to change it now. Louis' family will be joining them as well, so Louis feels less guilty about not being very social because he'll see them all tomorrow anyway. Harry's more likely to be less attached to Louis at his own house, but it's not like Louis minds it much.

For most of the night, the only person besides Gemma and Anne that doesn't seem to make Harry uncomfortable or anxious in the slightest is Niall. Louis understands why, too; sometimes it's like Niall forgets that Harry went through something horrible and traumatic. He doesn't treat Harry like he's fragile. Not to his face, anyway. He talks to Harry about Penny and his work and his girlfriend Liz and, for the most part, Harry listens intently and replies appropriately. It makes Louis happy knowing that Harry has someone else to turn to. 

Around eight, it's been three hours since they've been here. Harry's watching whatever new movie is on the TV now with his head against Louis' shoulder and his legs draped over Louis'. He looks comfortable and Louis doesn't want to disrupt it, but he does anyway. 

"Do you wanna get out of here?" Louis asks. He frees one of his arms so he can rake his fingers through Harry's hair, Harry snuggling closer to him as a result. 

"I'm okay," Harry tells him quietly. "Like, I'm enjoying myself. We don't have to go. Unless you want to."

And that makes Louis so fucking happy. Harry's enjoying himself. Around, like, fifteen loud people, in a house he hasn't been to in years. He's  _ comfortable _ . He's  _ happy _ .  _ He doesn't want to go _ . "I'm so proud of you," he whispers, and Harry laughs quietly. 

“Shut up," he says weakly, the shy smile on his face defying him. 

They stay cuddled up like that until Louis can't ignore the fact that he's had to pee for the last half hour any longer. He's been pushing it off so he doesn't have to leave Harry by himself, but he can't wait any longer. 

"I have to go to the bathroom, H," Louis tells him. "Do you want anything while I'm up?"

Although he doesn't respond verbally, Louis gets the inkling that Harry doesn't want to be left alone by the way Harry's hand darts out to grip tightly onto Louis' wrist. 

"I'll only be a second, love."

"Okay," Harry whispers, though he doesn't sound so sure. 

"I'll get your mom to sit with you while I'm gone." He stands, sliding out from under Harry carefully. His legs feel a bit wobbly; he hasn't moved in three hours and Harry's been resting all his weight on them. 

"You don't have to," Harry mumbles miserably. Instead of looking at Louis, he focuses intently on his fingers. "That's stupid."

"Hey," Louis scolds. He gently grabs Harry's chin so he'll look at him, and Harry's eyes are so wide and lost and Louis reminds himself that this doesn't ruin any of the positive feelings he's had about Harry's recovery tonight, that this is just a small hiccup. It's not the end of the world that Harry doesn't want to be left alone with a house full of people. "It's not stupid. I'll be right back, okay?"

Harry nods, and for a split second, Louis is going to rely on muscle memory and he almost leans down to kiss Harry, which. . . Louis catches himself before it's obvious, and Harry seems oblivious to it, so he lets go over Harry's chin and smiles nervously at him before he walks away to find Anne. 

Harry would've felt so betrayed if Louis kissed him. He would've felt offended and upset and, yeah, he'd try to hide it, tried to play along or something for Louis' sake, and maybe there'd be a hint of happiness and hope that Harry would feel too, but it doesn't matter. He knows Harry's not ready for that yet, and even if he was, that Harry would a hundred percent be responsible for initiating it. Kissing Harry on the lips isn't the same as kissing him on the cheek or forehead, it's more intimate, more personal. Louis can't, _ can't _ , cross that line, and he can't allow himself to be so thoughtless again. 

Anne's chatting with Jay at the table. Doris is on Jay's lap while Ernie is sitting on the floor next to her and pulling at her jeans. Anne has a wide-eyed, drooling Elijah in her arms, and when she sees Louis approach her, she stops mid-conversation and looks to him. 

"Is everything alright?" she asks, causing his mom to turn to him and look. He smiles warmly at them both. 

"Yeah. I just have to go to the bathroom and Haz didn't want to sit alone while I'm gone."

Immediately, Anne stands and tells him to go to the bathroom, that she'll go and sit with him. He thanks her and bends down to hug his mom before going off to the bathroom. 

The water he splashes on his face after he uses the bathroom relaxes him. He goes into the kitchen and makes conversation with Liam and Jillian as he cuts a slice of cake for him and Harry, vanilla for Harry and chocolate for himself. Maybe he should get them a plate of real food since neither of them haven't eaten anything healthy all day, but they spent a good two and a half hours today making these cakes and the brownies in the fridge and he's going to enjoy it. It  _ is _ his birthday after all. 

"Harry seems happy," Liam says, and it immediately pulls a grin from Louis. 

"Yeah. He is."

"Did you get him anything for Christmas?" Jillian asks, and Louis idly wonders how long it'll be until she's pregnant again. Liam and Jillian are both completely obsessed with being parents.

"No," Louis answers. "We agreed we wouldn't get each other any presents this year." And Louis' not going to lie, he's thankful for it. He didn't have any idea what to get Harry that wouldn't seem inappropriate or trivial, so when Harry asked him if they could skip presents this year, Louis was beyond relieved. 

After a little more conversation, Louis politely scoots out of the conversation and heads back to the living room with the plates in hand. When he returns, he's met with the sight of Harry coddling a squirmy baby in his arms. Both Elijah and Harry are smiling at one another, like they're sharing a secret no one else can know and no one else would understand. 

"I've brought cake," Louis announces, coming over and setting Harry's plate on the table next to the chair he's sitting in. Since Louis' spot has been stolen by a baby and Anne and Jay are sitting in the spots closest to Harry, Louis stands. 

"We were just talking about Gemma's wedding," Anne informs him. "She's going to wait to have it until the summer."

Jay nods. "She wants the typical June wedding."

"Weren't you and Nick planning on having a summer wedding?" Anne asks, and Louis feels the color drain from his face. Nick's not something he wants to be talking about, and he's kind of confused why Anne even brought him up because she  _ knows _ they broke it off a while ago. Maybe she did on purpose, just to drive home that point that Louis never shouldn't moved on in the first place. When Harry was gone, Louis didn't agree with her. But now that he's back, now that the smile on his face has vanished and he's staring up at Louis with pain clear on his face, Louis thinks maybe she had a point.

"We never really decided," Louis finally says. His voice sounds thicker than he means for it to, so he clears his throat. "We, uh. Nick wanted a summer wedding, I wanted a winter one."

Jay gasps dramatically and suddenly. "Is that cake?" she asks, standing up to inspect Louis' plate. God, Louis loves his mother. They all knew that Louis was uncomfortable, but she was the only one shameless enough and happy about being the one to change the subject. She rests a hand on his shoulder. "Did you grab vanilla or chocolate?"

It's very, very clearly chocolate. Louis smiles softly at her. "Chocolate."

"Oh, that sounds amazing. Anne did you have any cake yet?"

Anne shakes her head. 

"Let's go try a piece, yeah? See if all that baking Harry and Louis do has paid off?"

"Sure," Anne agrees, standing up. She looks down at Harry and brushes a strand of hair out of his face. "Here, I'll give Jill and Liam their child back. He's probably getting tired anyway."

Harry carefully, so,  _ so _ carefully lifts Elijah and hands him off to his mom. He doesn't let him go until Anne has him safely in her arms, and even then, he's hesitant to stop supporting him. Anne and Jay go off with Elijah to try the cake, and Louis slides back into his spot next to Harry where he belongs

Him and Harry eat their cake in silence. Louis steals a bite from Harry's plate, and Harry does the same, and the Christmas movie playing on the screen looks nice and modern so Louis decides to actually try and watch this one. He thinks Harry's watching it as well, but when a commercial break comes on and Louis looks to him, he sees Harry already staring back.

To make it even more surprising, Harry doesn't immediately and bashfully tear his gaze away. 

Louis laughs quietly, not sure what's going through Harry's brain right now. "What?" he asks. 

Harry shrugs, eyes still laser-focused on Louis. "Just. . . I think a winter wedding would be nice."

Louis feels his face flush and he looks back at the TV. He can feel the heat traveling down his neck. He didn't expect Harry to say that. "Yeah?" he asks, voice going embarrassingly high.

Harry nods before setting his head on Louis' shoulder. "Yeah." He doesn't say anything more until the movie comes back on, when Louis' not expecting anything else. "I love you, Louis."

The heat comes back to Louis' face, back to his neck, and pretty much floods the rest of his body. He can't believe Harry just said that. He thought he'd be able to  _ feel _ , or like,  _ sense _ when Harry was going to say something like that. He had no clue. But maybe Harry telling him that he loves him isn't as big of a deal as Louis thinks it is. They've said it to each other thousands of times before, even when they weren't dating yet. Maybe this is just one of those times. 

But maybe it's not, because Harry was quiet and sounded too sincere for it to be. Maybe it's not because Harry's waited this long to say it. Maybe Louis wants it to be, because he doesn't know what it means exactly and now he's going to be so worried he's going to do or say the wrong things. 

But saying it back could never be the wrong thing to say. Telling Harry how much he loves him -- loves, present tense -- has never failed him. No matter what level Harry means it to be on, Louis already knows he's on that level too. 

"I love you too, Harry."

And fuck. It's been too fucking long since he's said that out loud, and he's pretty sure he won't be able to go that long without saying it again. 

"I love you too," he repeats, because he feels like he couldn't physically stop himself from saying it again. He never wants to stop saying it again. He'd be okay if those were the only words he was ever allowed to say again. 

And the kiss Harry presses to the side of his neck isn't the response Louis was expecting, or even hoping for, but  _ fuck _ . Fuck, Louis loves him.

They leave Louis' mom's house around nine-thirty. Harry's tired and wants to go home, but Anne was trying to convince him to stay a little longer, so Louis offered to take him home himself. Somehow, like it always does nowadays, it turned into Harry just staying another night at Louis'. 

They've not been driving for more than twelve minutes when snow suddenly starts  _ rushing _ down. Like, _ pouring _ down. It's a little bizarre, because Louis wasn't aware it was supposed to snow at this time tonight, not to mention the fact that it's unusual for it to snow this hard in a New York December. Normally it doesn't get like this until January or February. Harry goes quiet, and Louis nods to himself. 

"We're, like, fifteen minutes away from my apartment," Louis tells him. "Do you want me to keep going, go back to my mom's, or just pull over and wait for it to settle down? It's not terrible, and I can still see somewhat, but if you're more comfortable -- "

"Yeah, um. Pull over, I think. This is -- I don't like this."

"Okay," Louis agrees, and he's about to pull over in front of some random house until he remembers there's a Wendy's literally less than a quarter of a mile away. He decides the milkshakes there will make it worth it and he just drives there. 

"Are they even open?" Harry asks once they park, and he's looking at Louis like he's an idiot. An idiot that he loves, based on the fondness etched into his features.

Louis nods. "They close at, like, two in the morning. And I want a Frosty, so. Let's go."

"But it's Christmas Eve."

"Oh." Louis had forgotten about that. He shrugs. "The lights are on."

They basically run into the store, because it's fucking freezing outside and the snow isn't gentle against their skin. They're both giggling like the idiots they are when they get inside. Harry shakes the snow out of his hair while Louis stomps the snow off his shoes. They don't realize how loud they're being until Louis glances up and sees how annoyed the worker looks behind the counter. She probably thinks nobody would come in this weather. 

It makes him laugh harder. 

Louis orders them both a Frosty and a small fry, and it doesn't hit him until they're waiting off to the side for their food: he basically dragged Harry into a foreign place without asking him if it was okay. It's like for a moment, Louis forgot about everything and they were back to being kids again, running around the city and acting like were the only two people in the world that mattered. 

"Harry -- " Louis starts, the color draining from his face. He's about to spew out a hundred different apologies, about five of them including including the phrase  _ fuck, I'm a fucking idiot _ , but Harry cuts him off with a simple shake of his head. Louis squints at him, confused, and Harry smiles gently at him. 

"I'm fine," he says quietly. He shuffles closer to Louis and intertwines their hands. He looks okay. A little anxious and awkward looking, but okay. "My therapist is gonna get a kick out of this," he jokes, and Louis can't help but look at him like he's got three heads because this morning Harry was scared and unsure, and now Harry's saying he loves him and that he's perfectly okay about being in a Wendy's with Louis at ten o'clock at night. 

"I'm so sorry," Louis says anyway. He's being so thoughtless tonight. He almost kissed Harry, and now he's kidnapped him and brought him to a fast-food restaurant. He's usually so much more cautious than this, so much more reliable. 

"I'm okay, Lou. I promise." He squeezes Louis' hand. "The fact that you can even forget about my, like, issues makes me just. . ." He ducks his head down and shrugs. "Proud of myself, I guess."

"You should be, Harry. Seriously."

Once their food comes, they pick the table farthest from the cashier. He insists on having the corner seat, and Louis' pretty sure that it has something to do with not wanting his back turned in an unfamiliar area. He's not so giggly anymore, and he's barely talking above a whisper. His 'issues' aren't just magically gone, but maybe their grip into Harry isn't as deep as it was before. For today, at least. But that's okay. Louis is okay with this being a one-day type of deal, especially since Louis completely sprang this on him without his permission.

They don't stay long, partly because it stops snowing as hard about fifteen minutes after they sat down and partly because Harry's getting increasingly uncomfortable. Louis was just lucky that no other customers came in, because he's pretty sure that would send Harry straight into a panic attack in the middle of a Wendy's on Christmas Eve, and that wouldn't be good for anybody. When they get into the car, Harry insists on strictly listening to Christmas music, which Louis pretends to be annoyed by but he doesn't actually mind. 

"I was supposed to have a therapy appointment tomorrow, but since it's Christmas, I obviously don't anymore," Harry says randomly. "My mom says if I do good this week with only seeing Kelly once, then we can talk about me going down to once a week from here on out."

Louis nods slowly. "Okay. Is that. . . Is that something you want?"

"I don't know," Harry admits. "I wanted to ask you what you thought about it."

"Me?"

"Yeah." Harry sits up straighter in the chair. "My mom said it's up to me, and Robin said the same thing, so, like. Since you're around me the most after them, I want your opinion."

Louis tries to figure out the proper response. He could go the easy way out by agreeing with Robin and Anne and say that it's up to him, but Harry's looking for some guidance and that's unfair. He thinks for another thirty seconds or so before shrugging. 

"I think. . . I think if you have to ask or think about it this hard, maybe you aren't ready to cut back a day." He briefly glances at Harry, who's staring forward out the window, his face hard to read. "I mean, I think if you were really ready to do it, you would just know."

"Okay," Harry says, nodding. "I think you're right."

Louis flashes a quick smile at him, happy he can help. He likes being able to have these mature conversations with Harry again. That's not to say that when Harry was weaker that he wasn't strong or mature, but this is different. This is  _ so  _ different. And it's good. It's  _ so _ good. Louis feels like this entire day he's been dreaming, because fuck. Harry's been practically glowing all day, full of happiness and hope and positivity. It's a refreshing change, and Louis really, really hopes it stays. 

Harry brings up moving in again two weeks after Christmas. 

Louis tries to keep a straight face as Harry stares at him after asking.  _ Please. Please. I want to live with you so bad. It's so nice waking up here, and I -- I just hate not seeing you every day. _ They're sitting at Louis' kitchen table, a puzzle on the table in between them, and Harry looks like he will break down in a fit of tears if Louis says no. 

It's just -- that's a lot of pressure. Louis tries so hard to be thoughtful and considerate around Harry, and he can't imagine being able to keep that attitude all day, every day. Harry doesn't expect him to be perfect -- he'd probably disappear into his room and never come out if he knew that Louis feared he couldn't handle Harry -- and Louis knows that if he has an off day or two, Harry's not going to crucify him for it, but moving in together is a huge step. Moving in together was a huge step for them almost a decade ago, and that was when they didn't have all this other stuff to worry about. 

Louis clears his throat, still keeping his face perfectly blank. "You'd miss your mom too much, Harry." And maybe that's manipulative, or at the very least a punch to the gut, but that's all Louis' got right now. 

"I can call her if I need her," Harry argues. "And if I, like,  _ need _ need her, she doesn’t live too far away from here."

Against his better judgement, Louis drops his gaze to the table. It's too hard to see how desperate Harry is. "What about Penny? You can't -- "

"Penny can stay here, with us and Ellie and Moose. You're apartment allows it, I checked. And my mom loves her, but I'm sure she won't mind it."

"We don't know if Ellie and her will get along."

"They can meet and if they hate each other, then. . . then I'll figure something out, but they won't." Harry's voice is getting high pitched, and he's practically pleading at this point. "But they won't hate each other. Penny is sweet and submissive; Ellie can establish her dominance and claim her territory and Penny won't mind. Plus, she mostly sticks around me when I'm home."

God, Harry's going to have an answer for everything, isn't he?

Louis takes a deep breath. "Have you brought this up to your therapist?"

Harry doesn't immediately jump on that question with an answer. He stutters a bit, and Louis glances up. Harry's face is red, and Louis shakes his head. 

"I'm not even _ thinking _ about agreeing if Kelly -- "

"She doesn't think it's a terrible idea," Harry interjects, sounding panicked. "She -- I'm not going to lie, okay, she says that I'm taking a risk, and if it doesn't work out the way I want it to, it's probably going to set me back a lot, but -- It's you," Harry breathes. "Like, it's you and me. I'm already comfortable around you, and I'm already comfortable here -- "

"You can't even shower here still," Louis argues, and he doesn't mean for it to sound so bitchy, but it does anyway. "I mean, Harry. How can you expect to live here if you can't even use my shower?"

He looks pained. "I'll get over it." 

Louis sighs. "You sleep on the couch here. You can't sleep on the couch forever."

"I can bring my mattress from home here. And if it's too big, you still have that air mattress, right?"

"Haz. Love. Come on. You can't sleep on an air mattress forever, either."

"Then I'll sleep in your bed."

"Harry -- "

"Louis,  _ please _ . I want this so bad."

Louis stands. This conversation is too much, too fast. He hates being the one to disappoint Harry. But he can't deny that Harry seems to be determined and passionate about this. He can't deny that Harry seems like he really, really wants this. He sounds more excited about this than he has about anything else since he's been back. How can Louis say no to him? _ Should _ Louis say no to him? He needs time to think about this before he agrees to something that Anne is going to murder him for. 

"Lou, please." Harry grabs his wrist when Louis takes a step forward. It's not necessarily tight, but it's tight enough to get his desperation across. "Why not?"

"Because  _ why _ ?" Louis asks, and he realizes that it doesn't exactly make sense before he even sees Harry's confused face. "I just -- why, Harry? Why do you want this so badly?"

"Because you're my favorite person," Harry says, his voice trembling slightly. "You're -- you make me happy. You make me feel safe. Do you realize how much that means to me? I feel safe with you. I feel safe  _ here _ . I feel -- I feel like I'm home when I'm here." Harry sniffles, and the tears in his eyes and the thickness of his voice prove that he's going to cry any second. "I feel like I'm home. And I -- Will you please just let me come home?"

And now he is crying. Tears are flooding down his cheeks, his eyes are getting red and his face is getting blotchy. Louis stands there, frozen, until Harry hiccups loudly. He quickly bends down to collect Harry in his arms, and Harry lets go of his wrist so he can wrap his arms around his neck. Louis feels how badly Harry's hands are shaking briefly as they brush passed his neck, and he squeezes him to his chest that much tighter.

"Do you not want me here?" he asks, voice quivering. "I -- I thought you said it was okay if I got everyone to agree, I thought, did you -- do you -- "

"Shh, sweetheart, calm down," Louis tells him quietly, stroking his hair. As far as he knows, Harry hasn't had a panic attack that wasn't due to a nightmare in a few weeks, and he's not about to let him have one now. "Calm down for me and we can talk, okay?"

"Okay," Harry cries pitifully. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm just -- "

"Don't apologize. Don't do that. It's okay. Just try and relax for me."

It takes five minutes of petting Harry's hair and shushing him patiently for him to calm down entirely. He sniffles one last time before pulling away enough to look at Louis. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I don't know where they came from."

Louis kisses his forehead lightly. "You're fine, love. Please don't apologize for feeling."

He gets them settled on the couch with a repeat episode of  _ Golden Girls _ on the TV and a light fleece thrown over them. Moose rests his head on Louis' thigh as Louis pets at Harry's hair some more. 

"We can work something out, okay?" Louis tells him, and before Harry can get too excited, he adds, "I'm not agreeing to you moving in with me right away. That's -- there's plenty of things that we'd need to take care of first before that happens."

"Like what?"

"Like what if Penny and Ellie don't get along? Like how are you going to be able to handle being all alone for most of the day when I work? How -- "

"I've been fine by myself while you worked the last few weeks," Harry points out, and well. Yes. He has a point. 

"I'm just saying," Louis says, purposefully being vague because Harry's going to want to pick apart everything Louis says. "Maybe. . . Since you've pretty much been staying here for two nights and three days as of the last few weeks, maybe we can move it to you being here three nights and four days? That way, you'll be here more and I can get a feel of how you are here."

"Okay. For how long?"

"I'm not sure," Louis admits. "Maybe we can try that for three weeks and then we can decide? And -- and maybe after the first two weeks, if everything goes okay, we can bring Penny over here and get a feel of how she is with Moose and Ellie. Don't take this the wrong way, but, like. If for whatever reason Ellie or Moose absolutely hates Penny and they don't get over it, I don't think it's going to work with her being here."

"I understand," Harry tells him, nodding. "This is their house. I get that."

"Good."

"But Penny's sweet. She's a good girl. I don't think she'll cause too much fuss."

"I don't either," Louis says honestly. Like Harry said: Penny would gladly be submissive towards Ellie, who will most likely demand it as soon as another cat entered her territory. "And before those three weeks are over," Louis continues, "I want you showering here."

Harry nods slowly. "That's fine. That's -- fine. I can get over it."

"Okay," Louis murmurs, unsure of what else there is to say. He's pretty sure he's covered the important bits. "And you have to talk about this with your mom, 'cause I'm telling you right now, she's probably going to kill me when she finds out I'm indulging this."

Harry laughs quietly, and Louis wonders if he's unaware of just how protective Anne is over him.

It takes thirty-five minutes for Anne to call him after Louis drops him off that night. To his surprise, she's not angry or disappointed or overly worried, she's just. . . sad. Sad that Harry is so willing and excited to leave her, sad that this is going to blow up in his face and he doesn't even realize it, sad that her youngest child yet again doesn't need her. 

"I felt like this when you two moved out together the first time around," she says. "The house will be empty without him. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself all day if this actually works, if I'm honest."

Louis ashamedly and quietly tells her that he's pretty sure this little experiment of Harry's is going to end fairly quickly. Maybe he can make it the first three weeks, but after that, Louis' almost certain that Harry's going to back out before making it official. Harry's asking too much out of himself, and Louis and Anne both feel powerless in stopping it. 

The first week is completely fine, aside from one or two minor hiccups. 

The first issue arises when it's the second night of Harry staying at his at he wants to shower. It's eleven o'clock at night when Harry comes into his room and tells him that he's going to try it. Louis' already ready for bed in his room, because laying on the couch cramped so close with Harry every night is putting a strain on his back and he has work in the morning. 

"I'm gonna try and shower," Harry tells him from the doorway. He has clean clothes hugged up against his chest and he's looking at Louis like he's lost. Like he suddenly doesn't know where he is anymore. Louis sits up slowly and tosses his phone off to the side. 

"It's eleven at night, Haz, maybe you should wait and try -- "

"I wanted to do it now," Harry interrupts, shaking his head. He's staring at his feet now, and his own demeanor makes Louis pretty sure there's another part of the story he's not hearing. It's not a big deal, it's not; sometimes Harry gets lost in his own head, in his old memories, and he goes a little quiet and closed off. It's nothing out of the ordinary. But Harry wanting to shower at his apartment is new, and he doesn't like the two intersecting. 

"Do you think maybe we should talk about why showering at mine is so difficult for you? Maybe, um. Maybe it'd help me understand, and maybe talking about it might help you too."

"Because I haven't been naked in anywhere other than my house since I've been here," Harry rushes out quickly. "I've -- at the hospital, like, they put me into a gown, but I don't remember it. And I, like, showered there, but that was different. I don't even like changing here, and now I have to go stand around naked for ten minutes, and -- "

"You don't have to do anything," Louis reminds him gently, his heart fluttering painfully in his chest. "You can shower at your mom's tomorrow."

Harry shakes his head instantly. "I have to prove to you I can make this work."

"Harry -- "

"Please don't," Harry interrupts. "I just need you to, like. Could you maybe sit outside the bathroom door? So, like. If I get scared or something, you can hear me if I need you."

It's eleven at night and Louis' exhausted and he has to be up in seven hours but, "Of course. Of course I'll do that for you."

Harry looks deeply relieved. "Thank you." He shifts his weight on his feet a few times before sighing quietly. "My mom did that for me the first few months I was back. And, um. I promise I won't make you do this every time."

"It's no problem, Harry." He pulls himself out of his warm, comfy bed and motions for Harry to go ahead. He grabs Ellie, who was in bed with him, and sets her on the bathroom floor when he's there. Harry glances up at him, confused, and Louis shrugs. "I usually lock her in the bathroom with me when I shower, anyway. She likes it. And she likes water a lot, so if she's feeling frisky, she might jump in the shower with you."

A ghost of a smile makes its way on Harry's face. "Cats are supposed to hate water. Penny does, anyway. The first time I tried giving her a bath, she clawed the crap out of me."

Louis shrugs again. "She wasn't too convinced of it at first, but Nick got her to like it. I don't remember how." Before there can be any awkward moment about a Nick mention, Louis shoos him forward. "Alright, go ahead. Shoo. I'll be out here if you need me. No matter what it's for."

"Thanks, Lou."

Louis just nods at him, and Harry closes the door. It's takes a solid eight minutes for Harry to actually turn on the water, and Louis tries not to let that worry him. As Harry showers, Louis pets Moose and plays on his phone outside the door. He can hear Ellie batting something around on the tiles, and he hopes that it's not a spider or something. Harry's only in the shower for six minutes before the water turns off, and Louis knows that he showers longer than the average guy, but six minutes is barely enough time for Louis to wash his hair, let alone his entire body. Still, he doesn't press it.

Baby steps. It's all about the baby steps. 

Harry comes out with a wet head and an arm full of dirty clothes and cat, and Louis smiles at him encouragingly. "Good?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He gives Louis a thin smile back before stepping around him and Moose carefully and going to the living room. Louis waits a minute or two before he follows him. 

Harry's sitting on the couch, hair dripping wet, and he looks uneasy but he's under his blanket and looking at the TV, so Louis' pretty sure he's mostly fine. "Are you sure everything's okay?" Louis asks, just to be sure, and Harry nods again. 

"Fine. Promise." He gives Louis another smile, and this one is a bit more believable. 

Louis nods. "Okay, cool. I'm gonna go lay down, if that's alright. If you need me, for anything, don't hesitate to come get me."

Harry nods back, but Louis barely takes a step forward before Harry's telling him to wait. Louis pauses, looking back to Harry, who looks slightly embarrassed. "I know you were planning on sleeping in your room tonight, but. . . Can you lay with me out here? Just until I fall asleep or something? I'm -- I promise I'm okay. I am. But my head's somewhere else right now, and I don't wanna be alone."

God, Louis wants his bed. He wants his big, warm, comfortable bed. He wants to be able to stretch out and relax. He wants to have a good night's sleep. But Harry's asking him for something, and Louis isn't selfish enough to deny him something so simple, even if this whole situation could be resolved if Harry could just sleep in his bed with him. 

"Thank you," Harry whispers, when Louis comes back into the living room with pillows for himself. Louis situates them so Harry's laying in between his legs, and it's honestly not that uncomfortable. He kisses the top of Harry's head after saying goodnight. Harry finds his hand underneath the blanket and squeezes.

The second little bump of the first week isn't really a bump to Louis. Harry coming into his room the third night at four o'clock in the morning because he woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't go back to sleep isn't a setback or a concern or anything dramatic like that. It happens to everyone, and Harry lets him guide him back to the couch, cover him up, and rub his back until he falls asleep again. It takes a half hour and Louis loses any chance of going back to sleep before work, but it's not a big deal. He only counts it as a bump because he doesn't understand how Harry's doing so well. 

Harry shouldn't take well to change. Any change, really. But especially to one this big. He had a panic attack over a car door slamming before, and yeah, that might've been a few months ago, but he's still talking about the same person with the same traumas. Harry shouldn't be doing this well, as terrible as that sounds. It's not that he wants Harry to fail, it's just. He's really, really surprised that he's completely fine the majority of the time. 

He's even more surprised when the second week goes off without a hitch. Harry even falls asleep in Louis'  _ bed _ one night. Of course, Louis woke him after a little while, because there would definitely be a problem if Harry woke up in a bed that wasn't his own. That's not the point though. The point is, is that Harry's doing fine --  _ more  _ than fine -- here, and he's having a hard time comprehending it. It gets even more confusing when Anne tells him that Harry's doing worse at home now. That he's irritable and his sleeping pattern is fucked and he's gone back to not letting Penny be more than a foot away from him at all times. It doesn't make any sense. 

In the third week, Harry brings Penny with him so they can figure out how she'll get along with the other animals, and seeing Harry with Penny protectively tucked against his chest in his apartment boggles Louis' mind, because this is really happening. There's no reason for Louis to prevent Harry from staying her permanently when he's doing this well. And this, Penny getting along with Ellie and Moose, is the last test. If this goes well, then Harry's moving in with him next week. And that's -- 

"Where's Moose?" Harry asks, still clutching Penny to his chest. He looks nervous. Louis motions to the back room. 

"I locked him in my room for now," Louis explains. "Figured her and Ellie should meet first. Moose gets along with everyone, so the only problem we're gonna have with them is getting him not to play too rough with her."

Harry cringes at that, glancing down at the cat in his arms, and Louis shakes his head. 

"He won't hurt her, Harry. Ellie thwacked him upside the head enough times for him to get the message that she's not his playmate; Penny will just have to do the same."

"Penny's not _ like  _ that."

"Penny's a cat, not a saint," Louis reminds, laughing quietly. "Trust me, if she wants Moose to leave her be, she'll let him know."

Harry doesn't look so convinced, but before Louis can try and reassure him anymore, Ellie comes strolling into the room. She and Penny look a lot different, he notices. Ellie is all dark colors and stripes, and Penny only has soft, muted tones to her fur. She sits a few feet away from them then and stares, and Louis' not sure if she can smell Penny or not.

"Do I just put her down and see what happens?" Harry asks, unsure. 

Louis shrugs. "I think so."

Harry makes a small noise, low in the back of his throat. "Maybe we should look it up. Like, research how to introduce them to one another."

Louis frowns and tilts his head slightly at Harry. He understands how much Harry loves Penny, but he loves Ellie just as much. It's like Harry doesn't realize that Louis wouldn't be doing this if he thought it'd put either of the cats in danger. Ellie's sassy, but she’s not the devil. "Haz, come on. They're cats."

"But -- "

" _ Harry _ ," Louis stresses, his patience wearing thin. 

Harry sighs. "I don't want her getting hurt," he mumbles, glancing down at Penny and scratching her cheek. 

"She won't."

Harry doesn't look up at him again, and Louis knows that the only way he can get Harry to let her go right now is if he pried her out of his hands. Louis takes a deep breath, reminds himself that Harry poured all his attention into her as a kitten so he didn't have to face the demons in his own head, that Harry thinks of himself as her protector. If anything were to happen to Penny, Harry would be destroyed. He's maybe being a little unreasonable, but Louis can't help that. He can, however, try and ease him into this.

"How about I put Ellie in my room with Moose and we give Penny some time to check out the rest of my apartment first?" Louis asks gently. He reaches out to squeeze Harry's elbow encouragingly. "That way, there's not too many new things for her to handle at once."

Harry nods shakily. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I think that'd be better, yeah."

Louis nods and lets go over his elbow so he can scoop Ellie up and take her to his room. Moose perks up excitedly when he opens the door, and Louis feels guilty when he shuts it after he puts Ellie on the floor. He goes back to the living room, and he finds Harry sitting on the floor, a squirmy Penny in his lap. 

"Okay," Louis tells him, motioning to the open space. He watches Harry nod, take a deep breath, and kiss the top of her head before moving her and placing her on the floor. She looks confused briefly, like she's only now just realized she was somewhere new. She doesn't let it bother her long before she's walking up to Louis, meowing at him, and sitting by his feet. He bends down to pet her head, and she purrs in response. 

"She seems fine to me," Louis says, glancing back at Harry. He's smiling. 

"I dunno why I thought she'd freak," Harry mumbles, sounding embarrassed. 

"I don't know either, but it's good that she didn't, yeah?"

Harry nods and stands. He calls Penny over to him when he walks to the kitchen, and she comes. She has this walk where she acts like her paws are too big for her. It reminds him of Harry. She mewls at Harry, probably wondering why he's making her follow him. 

"She doesn't seem to care much," Louis observes. "Shouldn't she be, like, sniffing around a little? Checking the place out?"

Harry smiles down at her like she's the one who created the universe. "I  _ told  _ you. She's not like other cats."

Eventually, Louis convinces Harry to allow him to get Ellie. He's nervous and antsy and looks ready to pounce the second Ellie does anything he doesn't like. For the most part, Ellie pays no attention to Penny. She looks at her, flicks her tail a bit sassily, and stalks off to the couch to go lay down. She watches Penny, but she doesn't do anything more than that. Penny, on the other hand, looks extremely curious. She's got herself lower to the ground than normal and her eyes are wide; she looks like she wants to play. 

After twenty minutes pass and neither of the cats decide to go and meet one another, Louis grabs Penny ("Lou, wait, let me hold her") and brings her over to Ellie. Penny meows quietly at her, to which Ellie puts her ears back in surprise. Ellie sniffs her tentatively, but other than that, she doesn't pay much attention to her. She turns to look at Louis like  _ okay, and? _

The introduction between Moose and Penny goes a little less smoothly, but decent over all. He comes running out towards the living room as soon as Louis opens his door, and Penny looks more than spooked by it from where Harry put her up on the dining room table. Harry coos at her, tells her it's okay. When Moose comes over to the table and sniffs at her, too short to reach her but tall enough to see her and smell her, Penny stands curiously and peeks over at him. After a few minutes of that, Louis persuades Harry to let him set Penny on the ground. Harry's beyond anxious, looks a bit like he might cry, but all Moose does is sniff her out excitedly. Until he barks happily at her and Harry immediately picks her up and tells Louis that that's enough for today.

Overall, it went well. And Louis' out of reasons to think this whole Harry moving in thing won't work. 


	4. chapter four

Harry officially moves in five days later, two days after Harry's therapist gave him her blessing. According to Anne, it was given hesitantly, but it was given nonetheless. 

It's not as big of an occasion as it was when Louis moved into the apartment himself. It's just him, Harry and Anne moving Harry's things over to Louis'. Which -- they didn't even need all three of them doing it. It would've worked fine with just Louis and Harry doing all the work, because it turns out Harry doesn't have many things he's connected to. Aside from his clothes, there's only a box worth of things that Harry wants to take with him. It breaks Louis' heart watching Harry unpack some of it, looking so content with everything. Harry deserves to love more than a box worth of items. 

It's not this dramatic event, either. After they get Harry's mattress from home in, the hard work is done and there's barely anything else to do. It's all over and done with in an hour.

Afterwards, Harry's curled up on the couch with Penny in his lap, his knees tucked close to her. He's still wary of Moose around her, although Moose is too busy sniffing out Harry's things to care much. 

Anne stays for dinner, and Harry insists on eating on the couch. Louis doesn't get why until Harry sits so, so close to his mom. He's scared of her leaving him, and all Louis can do about it is hope that he can cope with it. 

The first two weeks are great. Amazing. A hell of a time. Louis gets to come home to his favorite person in the world every day. He gets to wake up to Harry. Harry is the last person he gets to see before he goes to bed. It's incredible. And Louis foolishly, foolishly believes it's going to last. 

It doesn't. 

It takes two weeks for everything they've built to crumble. 

It's not even like it's a gradual change. There's no warning. One night, Harry goes to bed after kissing Louis' cheek, and the next afternoon when Louis gets home from work, he's sound asleep. He doesn't wake up until five p.m., and he's very, very quiet. Silent, almost. He doesn't hold eye contact with Louis all night, and he goes back into his room at eight o'clock. When Louis knocks on his door two hours later to say goodnight, Harry asks him quietly to go away. 

And Louis does. He can't fight Harry right now, not when he feels so stupid for believing this could actually work. 

The next day when he comes home from work and Harry's sleeping again, Louis knows he can't let this go on without doing anything about it. Anne would kill him if he just let Harry be when he's like this. She's trusting him; he can't abuse that. 

He knocks on Harry's door quietly. When he gets no response, he opens it. Penny meows at him from her spot by Harry's feet when he comes in, and Louis pats her head. He sighs and takes a deep breath. 

"Harry." No response. "Harry, love, can you please wake -- "

And then Harry's eyes are shooting open and he's recoiling violently, looking up at Louis like he's a monster. Louis tries not to let it worry him too much; Harry is still jumpy normally, and he calms himself down after a few seconds. His chest is heaving a bit when he clears his throat and asks Louis what he's doing in here.

"You seem upset, love," Louis says instead of giving him an answer. He bends down so he's level with Harry, hoping it might make him look less intimidating or something. "Are you okay?"

Harry nods silently, his cheek brushing against his blanket. 

"Are you sure?"

Harry nods again. Louis' about to push harder, but Harry sits up. He keeps the blanket draped around his shoulders tightly. "I have therapy tomorrow," Harry says. "I'll just talk about it with her then."

So there is something wrong. Fuck. "You can tell me too. You know that, right?"

Harry nods once and glances to the side at Penny. She's resting peacefully, yet he finds her more interesting than looking at Louis. "I'm sorry. For, like. Worrying you. I'm fine."

"Harry -- "

"I wanna lay back down," Harry interrupts, keeping his gaze averted. "Are you -- will you let me? Please?"

Louis crosses his arms and tries to think. Nothing happened, nothing that Louis knows of, so why is Harry doing this? He's shutting down. He's reverting back to old habits, habits that Louis hates. "You can't be that tired. You've been sleeping all day."

Harry shrugs. "I am."

"You're not," Louis argues. He sighs loudly. "You're -- you do this when you're trying to avoid something. You just sleep, 'cause it's easy. Not easy, but. Easier. I don't want you doing that."

"My mom lets me be when I feel like this," Harry whispers. 

Louis, feeling awfully prickly because what the fuck, he feels like an idiot for trusting that Harry was magically okay, scoffs quietly. "I'm not your mom."

"No," Harry agrees. "You're not. But you _ are  _ my -- my friend. Who knows what I've been through. And as my friend, I think you should try to let me be."

"I don't know what you've been through," Louis disagrees, and he knows he's being a dick. It's just -- Harry was fine. Two days ago, he was running around the apartment with Moose, his laughter booming. And now he's not. Now he's laying in bed all day. And Louis' no doctor, but he's not even sure that it can be blamed on Harry's depression. It doesn't happen that quick. Does it?

Harry shoots him a murderous look. "What, you need to me to say it? You need me to say out loud that I was fucking raped? By so many different people I lost track after the first  _ week _ ? Is that what you need to hear?"

Louis closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He deserved that. He did. "I'm sorry," he says, his eyes still shut. "I don't need to hear anything you don't want to tell me. I'm just. . . " He opens his eyes. Harry's looking down at his hands in his lap. "Confused. About what's happening."

Harry shrugs clumsily. "I'm just tired. That's all."

"Right. Sleep on the couch then, alright? So I know you're okay."

Harry shoulders slump forward even more and he sighs. "Lou. I wanna stay in here."

"Fine," Louis relents. "But I want you to come eat dinner right now."

Harry looks up at him, confused. "It's not even five yet."

"Yeah, I know it's not." Louis shakes his head, trying to keep his anger contained. He has to, for Harry's sake. "But I also know that you haven't eaten breakfast or lunch, so please go eat."

"I ate a yogurt," Harry defends lamely. Even he knows it's not enough because he stands and goes to the living room, the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders tightly. 

A half hour later, Harry's on the couch eating a bowl of spaghetti.

Louis' sitting at the kitchen table so he doesn't bother Harry. He turned the TV on for them, but he doesn't feel like watching anything right now. He can't believe that he convinced himself Harry was going to stay fine. He can't believe he's surprised with the situation right now. He's pissed at himself. Pissed at everyone who hurt Harry. He just wants his fucking boyfriend back already. 

The second he pulls out his phone and starts typing, Harry's immediately on him. 

"Who are you texting?" he asks, voice small. 

Louis' too upset to try and lie. "Your mom. She needs to know what's going on."

"Nothing's going on," Harry denies, sounding scared. 

"Harry. Please don't do this."

Harry comes over to him and sits down at the table next to him. He looks panicked. He grabs Louis' forearm and squeezes. "I'm fine, okay? I'm fine. It's -- she doesn't need to know anything. There's nothing to tell her."

"You haven't eaten all day. You slept the entirety of yesterday and most of today. You've dug yourself back into your shell. Those are all the types of things she needs to know."

"I'm f -- "

"Say you're fine one more time and I might just lose it," Louis snaps, pulling his arm away from Harry. Harry's only touching him to try and convince him he's okay, anyway. It's fucking manipulative. 

Harry breathes in sharply. "Fine, okay? Maybe I'm -- maybe I'm not fine, but I am a twenty-six year old grown adult who doesn't need their boyfriend to run to their mom every time they have a bad day."

Boyfriend. That's. . . not the most important thing going on right now. He decides to ignore it. "Harry. Your mom needs to know how you're doing."

Harry stands abruptly, grabbing Louis' hand. "Let's watch a movie. Come on. There's -- we can watch that new Adam Sandler movie. You said you wanted to see it the other day."

"Harry -- "

"Just watch a fucking movie with me," Harry snaps, and yeah. He's definitely panicking. Louis just nods silently, standing up and tucking his phone in his back pocket. He'll tell Anne later, when Harry's not around him. Right now, his only job is to appease Harry and try and keep him calm. He's clearly spiraling downwards. 

He turns on the movie and they sit on separate ends of the couch. Harry's face is the only thing not hiding away in his blanket cocoon. Penny's even in there somewhere; Ellie hates it underneath the covers, but Penny demands it. She's woken him up twice since she's been here by screaming in his face because she wants under the blankets.

Neither of them say a word. Neither of them laugh at the movie, even though it's a comedy. They just sit and stare. 

It takes forty-five minutes for Harry to start crying. Louis sighs, not sure what else to do. He's forgotten what it's like when Harry's like this. He forgot how tiring it all is. 

"H," Louis murmurs. 

"Just watch the movie," Harry cries. 

"Can you please tell me what's wrong?"

Harry doesn't say anything for a long minute. All he does is gasp and cry and sniffle for a long, long minute. "Everything," he replies finally. "Everything's wrong. Everything's always going to be wrong when I'm involved."

"That's not true," Louis whispers, pained. 

Harry just cries some more. 

A week later, and things haven't improved any. 

Harry's gone to two therapy appointments since he's been like this. His mom has been over to see him three times. Louis has taken off three days of work because he could Harry crying through the walls when he was trying to get ready. Harry's barely eating and he's always crying and he tries his hardest to not be awake. Louis is beyond stressed and feels like a failure, yet Anne doesn't seem terribly worried. 

"He gets like this sometimes," Anne told him quietly after seeing Harry the first time. 

Louis furrowed his eyebrows. "He hasn't gotten like this is months, right?"

"Yes, Louis. He has." She sighed. "It happened regularly. He always asked me not to tell you, because he could always magically cheer up for a few hours or days for you, and he didn't want him ruining the time you guys shared together."

Louis had been so mad. He was kept in the dark, kept in stupid, stupid oblivion. He was given the impression that everything was fucking fine, that Harry was getting better.  _ Recovered.  _ And he wasn't. 

"Don't let this discourage you," Anne pleaded. "He'll come out of it soon. Give him another week or two. Don't let this make you think he's as fragile as he was when he first came back."

But Harry is fragile, no matter what Anne tells him. He's scared and paranoid and crying all of the time. Louis asked him to eat dinner last night, and he had burst into tears for no fucking reason. 

He's all ready for work, tying up his laces, when Harry comes into his room, crying hysterically. Dread ices over his stomach; Harry hasn't come to him once since he's been feeling like this. He's been keeping to himself. So if he's coming to Louis for help, he's really, really not doing well.

"Lovely," Louis whispers, standing from his bed. Moose stands too, but Louis tells him to sit and he does. "What's the matter?"

"I feel so fucking nauseous," Harry cries, choking on a sob. His face is bright red and his lips are bitten raw (Louis' eyes flick down to his fingers, and yep, two of his fingernails are bleeding) and he looks so, so broken. There's no other word for it. He's just broken. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up. And -- and I have a headache and I can't -- I just feel so  _ bad _ . I don't know what to do. I can't sleep, my head hurts too bad, and I -- " he pauses to let out a sharp cry, and he presses the heel of his hands into his eyes. "I know I'm gonna scare you by saying this, but I just want everything to  _ stop _ ."

Harry's right: it does scare Louis. It scares him so much that he calls his boss and pleads for her to forgive him for blowing the day off again, and once she does, he asks if it'd be alright if he uses most of his vacation days, leaving him out of work for two weeks. His boss agrees, but she tells him that if he does this again, he's going to be on thin ice. 

Once he's off the phone, he goes back to Harry, who he left sitting on the couch, crying so hard it sounds like it hurts. He sits down to him cautiously and Harry glances at him, face puffy and red. 

"You're gonna make me move back in with my mom, aren't you?" he asks, voice trembling. Every part of him is trembling, for that matter. It's just a big fucking mess. 

Louis clears his throat and shakes his head. "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to."

"I just want to sleep," Harry cries, laying down on the couch. He curls in on himself, his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He cries and cries and cries, and Louis can do nothing but stare. Before Louis called his boss, he asked Harry if he could touch him. He said no. He asked him if he could get him an Advil or something. He said no. So all Louis can do is watch. 

"Does your head still hurt?" Louis asks fifteen minutes later. 

Harry sniffles. He stopped crying so hard a few minutes ago. There are still tears, but they aren't accompanied by sobs anymore. "Yes," he whispers. 

Louis curses silently. "And do you still feel like you might throw up?"

"Yes."

Louis closes his eyes for a few seconds and bites back a sigh. "Is there anything I can do for you? Anything?"

Harry shrugs. "Take me back in time and tell me not to go to that stupid mall."

Tears spring to Louis' eyes and he has to excuse himself to the bathroom because he knows if he has to sit there any longer, they'd fall. He can't let Harry see him cry. Guilt burns bright around Louis' heart; he shouldn't have fucking stayed home that day. He should've went with Harry. If he wasn't so goddamn selfish and lazy and if he had just went with Harry to the mall, Harry wouldn't have been taken. He wouldn't have been violated so deeply. 

He goes back to the living room when he's sure that he won't cry. Harry is sitting up with Penny in his lap. Ellie's next to him, and he's petting them both. He looks more content now then Louis has seen him look all morning. And he doesn't know why, or where they come from, but tears just explode out of his eyes, and now he's the one crying. Harry looks up, guilt written all over his face, and Louis can't convince himself to tell Harry it's okay because it's not. 

On Harry's birthday, things still haven't changed. 

It disappoints Louis more than he'll ever admit out loud, it's just. This is the first time he had the chance to celebrate Harry's birthday with Harry after six years, and now Harry's is in no mood to celebrate. He doesn't even care that it's his birthday. He's in no state to have any friends over, so it's just Harry, Louis, Anne, Gemma and Robin all cramped in Harry's room, trying to coax him to talk. 

"You're twenty-seven, baby brother," Gemma tells him, faking a cheery attitude. "How does it feel?"

Harry sniffles and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. "Terrible."

Anne sighs quietly. "Harry -- "

"I just want Louis right now," he cries, shaking his head. He presses his cheek against his pillow, his cries becoming increasingly louder. Louis comes over and sits on the edge of the bed next to Harry, patting his leg softly. 

"We'll be in the living room," Robin tells Harry, and Harry ignores it. He doesn't do or say anything until everyone expect Louis shuffles out of the room. He turns on his back, tears pouring down his cheeks and hiccuping quiet. 

"Will you make me a cupcake?” he asks, choking on his tears. “For my birthday?" 

Louis makes a sad noise, low in his throat. He leans forward to wipe Harry's tears. They keep coming and coming, but Louis stays there and keeps wiping and wiping. "Of course I will, darling."

Harry nods fervently, sobbing hysterically. For the first time in a long time, Harry allows Louis to hold him. Louis holds him so tightly there's no way Harry's comfortable, but all Harry does is cling equally as hard to Louis. Once Harry has stopped crying so hard, Louis kisses the top of his head and goes and makes him the fucking cupcake, because it's all he can do for him right now. 

Harry only eats a quarter of it. 

It takes Harry two more weeks after his birthday for him to fully come back, and as soon as Louis thinks he's ready for it, he sits him down at the kitchen table. There's a lot of things they need to talk about. 

"Do you want to move back with your mom?" Louis asks first. Harry immediately looks down at the table, his shoulders hunched forward. Louis waits patiently for him to respond, and when he does, it's a shake of his head.

"Why not?"

"Do you want me to?" Harry asks hurriedly, looking back up at Louis. He looks scared.

Louis shakes his head. "No. I don't. But I need to know you aren't here just because you think I want you to be."

"I like it here," Harry tells him, furrowing his eyebrows. "I'm here because I like it here."

"Okay." Louis takes a deep breath; the next question isn't going to be so easy. He gives Harry a small smile and takes another deep breath before asking, "Will you please reconsider the idea of going on antidepressants?"

The answer is immediate. "No," Harry says, crossing his arms. "I don't want that."

"Why not?"

"Because I said no."

Louis tries really, really hard to understand but he can't. He just fucking can't. Louis giving him Advil for his headaches and doctors prescribing him antidepressants are very, very different from pimps shooting him up with heroin. He can't see the connection between them that Harry does. "You spent the entirety of the last two months having a severe depressive episode that could've been -- "

"You've been talking to Kelly, haven't you?" Harry asks, shaking his head angrily. "Or my mom has been, and she talked to you about it."

Louis takes another deep breath. "Yes, your mom spoke with her about this. And the three of us agree that the episode could've been avoided if we get you on the right meds."

Harry stares at him blankly. "I told Kelly she can tell my mom what I say after a session, not that she can talk to my mom about me whenever she wants. That's not what I agreed to."

"You really fucking scared me," Louis says sternly. He's not here to talk about the specifics of Harry's agreement with his therapist. He's here because he spent the last two months scared and worried for someone he loves deeply. After a month, Anne began getting worried too. Scared. Louis can't do that all over again in another few months because of some chemicals fucking around in Harry's head. 

"It wasn't all because of my depression," Harry argues. "I just get like that sometimes. My -- my past catches up with me and I can't force it down. It can't all be blamed on my depression."

"No, it can't," Louis agrees. "But if you're on medication, you can get the chemicals your brain is lacking and it can't make the playing field a bit more even. Nobody's promising you that you won't feel depressed again, or that you won't struggle, but the meds will make sure you don't dip so low next time."

Harry shakes his head. "I don't want to go on any medication, Louis."

Louis clenches his jaw before relaxing it. "You were hesitant on trying therapy at first, and look how much it's helped you. It's the same thing."

"It's definitely not the same thing," Harry denies. He stands and he's about to leave, but goddammit, no. No. Louis' not giving him a choice in this, not after he had to hear Harry cry every single day for two months straight. 

"If you want to continue living here, you have to at least try them."

It's cruel. Evil, even. And it's really fucking manipulative. But Louis cannot go through that again. He can't watch Harry wither around like an exposed nerve again. He refuses to. He's sacrificed a lot for Harry; this isn't going to be one of those things. 

"That's fucked up," Harry mumbles, turning back to look at him. 

Louis closes his eyes and scoffs. "I know it is."

"You seriously would kick me out?"

Louis shrugs, reopening his eyes. Harry looks pained. "I don't know," he replies honestly. "But I really, really hope you don't force me to make that decision."

Harry stares at him for a long time. He's expression is unreadable, his face carefully smoothed over. After however long, Harry throws up hands. "I'll talk to Kelly about it next time I see her, I guess."

"Thank you," Louis says, beyond relieved, but Harry just shakes his head and retreats back to his room. Louis still takes it as a win.

Louis gives Harry an hour to himself before going to his room. It's open a few inches, so Louis takes that as a sign that it's okay to come in without knocking. Harry's sitting up in bed, a book sat open on his lap. It only looks like he's a few pages into it. Louis makes his presence known quietly, and Harry nods at him before shutting the book and tossing it on the dresser. Louis sits on his bed next to him. 

"I didn't know you read," Louis says, looking at the cover of  _ Lord of the Flies _ . 

Harry laughs quietly. "I don't. I've been trying to read that book since I started seeing Kelly. She thinks reading would be good for me, but. I can never concentrate on it."

Louis nods. He can't concentrate while reading either. In his case, though, it has nothing to do with a trauma affecting his brain, but because he can think of a hundred other things he'd rather be doing. He scoots a little closer to Harry so he can rest his hand on his knee comfortably. Harry sets his hand on top of Louis' almost immediately. 

"Do you," Louis pauses, unsure of how to word this. "Do you understand why I want you to at least try the antidepressants?"

Harry smiles sadly at him. "You've gone back to speaking to me like a child."

"I'm sorry, fuck." Louis scoots closer to him again, and now their shoulders are touching. He wants to wrap his arm around Harry's waist, but this is an important conversation and he doesn't want Harry distracted. "I don't mean to. Seriously. Kick me whenever I do it."

Harry rolls his eyes. "I'm not going to kick you, but okay." He wets his lips with his tongue as he drags his pointer finger over the band-aid on his ring finger. During his meltdown -- depressive episode, he mentally corrects -- he was relentless on his fingers. Two of them are currently healing, one because he chewed on his nail so hard it bleed, and the other because he tore off the cuticle. "I get it," Harry says eventually. "I understand that you think they're going to help me, but, like." He sighs and shakes his head. "Doesn't matter, I'm going to try them for you anyway."

"It does matter, love. Tell me what you're thinking."

Harry turns to him, eyes gleaming with tears. They probably won't fall. "I don't want to get hooked on another thing, you know?"

Louis' heart clenches and he immediately reaches forward to rest a gentle hand on Harry's cheek. "You won't, baby. You -- Can you even get addicted to antidepressants?"

"Not in, like, the traditional way," Harry says, sniffling quietly. "Not like you can get addicted to heroin. But I can get, like, dependent on them. They're going to literally change how my brain works, that's -- if I ever quit them for some reason, I'm going to have some sort of withdrawal from it, and I -- I don't know. That just scares me."

"I can understand that," Louis whispers, because he can't say that he won't become dependent on them or he won't have to quit them, but he can say he understands. He can make Harry feel understood, or, at the very least, listened to. 

"I'm sorry everything has to be so complicated with me all the time," he says, and Louis' about to tell him not to talk like that but Harry shakes his head. "No, Louis. Like, I'm not saying that to be self-deprecating or whatever. It's true. Everything's an uphill battle with me. And, like. I know it's not necessarily my fault. I know that it's not as bad as it used to be. But, like. I'm just sorry you have to be with someone who's not completely whole. Like, I'm sorry I can't be what you need right now."

"You don't have to apologize for anything, love." He reaches forward and slides his hand through Harry's hair, smiling gently. "I don't need you to be someone you're not. I'd be completely happy with being with you like this for the rest of my life. But, um. About that, like. Is that. . . " He moves his hand to rest in-between Harry's shoulder blades. "Are we, like. Like that, then? Together?"

Harry pulls back, and Louis immediately tries to regain his footing. "No, I'm sorry, I must've read something wrong, you -- you called me your boyfriend the other day, and then you -- I'm sorry, fuck. I just thought -- "

"It's not that," Harry tells him, shaking his head. His face is bright red. "I, uh. I thought that we've been, like. Together. For a while now."

Louis furrows his eyebrows. "For how long?"

"Since -- since a little before your birthday?" He shrugs stiffly, wraps his arms around his lower stomach. "I just thought, like. I told you I loved you. Sorry if I, um, jumped the gun. I didn't realize -- "

"Hey," Louis interrupts, because if he doesn't, Harry's going to be sitting there, rambling and thinking he's done something wrong. Harry looks at him, looking guilty. "I just wanted to make sure. I'd very much like to be with you, okay? I. . . wasn't completely aware we were already there, but I'm glad we are. Seriously."

Harry nods a few times and looks back down at his lap. Louis does wrap his arm around Harry's middle now. "Don't be embarrassed or anything," Louis whispers. "I love you. Very much. I always have. I never stopped."

"Me neither," Harry says back, just as quietly. 

Louis presses a kiss to Harry's shoulder. "You need to promise me that you'll tell me if you're ever unhappy, okay? If you're ever uncomfortable or unsure or need to be clear with me about something, you need to come to me, okay? Will you please promise me you'll do that?"

"I promise," Harry murmurs. He shuffles around so his body is turned to Louis, and then he leans forward and hugs him, his face resting against Louis' shoulder. Louis hugs him back, rubbing his back with one hand and squeezing him with the other. Harry turns his face into Louis' neck, his skin hot against Louis'. "I'm sorry I broke up your marriage," he whispers, and he sounds so sincere that Louis can't help but bark out a laugh. 

"It's okay, sweetheart. Don't feel guilty about that. Nick understands."

Harry pulls back so his face is less than an inch from Louis'. It'd be so easy to kiss him right now, but Louis' still firm on the fact that he wants Harry to be the one to initiate their first kiss. "He does?" Harry asks, sounding unsure. 

Louis nods, his hand still rubbing over Harry's back. "I'd like to think he does, anyway."

After a few minutes, Louis pushes Harry back against the bed. He curls up with him and pulls the blanket over them both, waiting for Harry to get comfortable. Once he is, Louis reaches over him to grab the book off Harry's nightstand and lays back down.

"What are you doing?" Harry asks, moving to rest his head on Louis' chest. Louis wraps his arm around him and pulls him impossibly closer. 

"I'm gonna read to you."

Harry laughs quietly, his hand coming to rest on Louis' stomach. "I love you so much," he whispers. 

Louis presses a kiss to the top of his head. "I love you, too. So much."

"You fucking suck at this game," Niall huffs out, and Harry pouts. 

"Don't be mean," he says, still pouting petulantly. He's laying in between Louis' legs, so he looks up to show Louis his pouty face. "Niall's being mean."

Niall groans. " _ Harry _ , we're on the  _ same team _ , so if you could please stop flirting and -- oh, great. You fell off the cliff again."

Louis laughs, shaking his head at the both of them. Harry looks back at the TV screen and murmurs a quiet "oh, oops," when he sees that he had, in fact, driven right off a cliff. 

"You're playing Mario Kart, Ni," Louis reminds, stroking his finger over the back of Harry's arm. "I don't think you're supposed to be so competitive of Mario Kart."

Niall flips him off, his hand quickly going back to the controller afterwards. He's in second place and Harry's all the way back in twelfth, and Louis would have some pity on him if Harry looked like he cared much. Harry's never really played to win video games, anyway. 

In the end, Niall gets first place, Harry gets seventh, and Niall loudly announces he needs a break from playing because Harry's playing like he has two left thumbs and he's 'going to have a fucking heart attack'. Harry shrugs and tosses the remote aside.

"He's just doesn't want to play because he knows you were going to win the next round," Louis whispers, making sure to be loud enough that Niall can hear him. Niall rolls his eyes and flips them both of this time. 

It was Louis' idea to invite Niall over, and Harry agreed to immediately. Louis didn't have to persuade him in any way; Harry  _ wanted _ to see Niall, to hang out with him for a few hours. Louis was surprised. He knew Harry has a soft spot for Niall, but he didn't know he'd be so excited to see him. And Harry acts so comfortable around Niall that Louis' going to try and have him over more often. After those two months of Harry non-stop crying, Louis needs any reminder he can get that Harry's doing okay. 

Niall rambles on for almost a half hour about work and Liz and his mom and everything, really. Louis and Harry listen patiently, Louis butting in with a response every few minutes. Harry mostly stays silent, just watching Niall intently while he absently plays with Louis' fingers. 

Eventually, Niall stumbles into a topic that Harry kind of has to respond. "It's almost been a year, hasn't it?" he asks, looking directly at Harry. Harry tenses slightly, his fingers halting their movements against Louis'. 

He nods slowly. "I think, like. Three more weeks?"

"Two," Louis corrects, fumbling around to grab Harry's hand. "It was the twenty-sixth, right?"

Harry shrugs. "I don't know. I don't really remember any of the beginning."

"So, like, is that the type of thing you're going to celebrate, or. . .?" Niall asks, sounding confused. "I don't know if we should all, like, text you, or if that'd be weird, I. . ."

"You can text me," Harry mumbles, glancing at his lap. "I'd like that."

"Okay," Niall agrees. "I totally will. I'll stay up until midnight and everything, just so I'll be the first one."

Harry leans his head back so it's resting against Louis' shoulder, his eyes narrowed slightly. "I think. . . I think it was still light out, when they found us." He's concentrating hard, like the memories aren't clear. "Yeah, it was still light out. I remember looking at the sun when one of the paramedics were trying to talk to me."

"So it was probably the twenty-fifth," Louis infers, and Harry shakes his head. 

"I don't want to remember that day. Let's just stick with the twenty-sixth." He closes his eyes briefly before opening them again. "I wouldn't tell them who I was. I don't remember what I was scared of. One of the others -- God, I can't even remember her name -- told me that she didn't know my name but she knew I was from Queens. They figured out who I was based on that."

Louis nods carefully. He wants to say something, but Harry seems like he wants to talk about this, so he stays quiet. 

"You know Ben quit his job after the trial ended?" Harry asks, turning his head to look at Louis better. Louis shakes his head; he didn't know that. "He told my mom that he couldn't handle another case like mine. He thought that he'd never find me, that I'd always stay a missing person case. I guess he promised himself he'd quit after I was found, dead or alive. He knew that if he kept working, there'd be somebody else he couldn't find, and he didn't want that weighing on him any more."

"Oh," Louis whispers. Niall doesn't say anything. 

"He's a private investigator now, I think," Harry continues. "He still gets to do all his detective work, but. . . but there's no dead body at the end of his search."

"Hey," Louis says mildly. There was no dead body at the end of Ben's search for Harry. 

"I'm just saying," Harry mumbles. 

Niall sits up straighter on his end of the couch. "Did you. . . Were you, like. Friends with anybody you were with? 'Friends' probably isn't the right word, but. Were you?"

Harry shakes his head slowly. "I don't think so. I mean, we, um. We tried taking care of each other when we could, but I wouldn't say any of us were friends. A lot of," his voice breaks, "a lot of people disappeared a lot. Most. . . most people didn't make it as long as I did." He takes a deep breath and exhales a shaky one. "I'm fucking lucky I got out when I did. They were starting to say I was too old to keep."

"Christ," Louis whispers, squeezing Harry's hand tighter. He doesn't like hearing about this. He really, really doesn't. But if Harry's comfortable with finally talking about it, he just has to suck it up and listen. 

Niall opens his mouth again, and for a moment, Louis thinks he's going to ask another question and he's going to have to listen to Harry detail some other horrid aspect of his life in the last six years. Instead, Niall stands and says, "God, I'm starving. What's in the fridge?"

Harry laughs loudly, which consequently pulls a laugh out of Louis too.

Two days later, Louis' at work, sitting at his desk and doing nothing. Like always. After things completely settle down with Harry, he's going to quit this place and find work somewhere else. He hates it. He wants to actively help people, and that's not what he's doing here. He's not helping anyone but himself with the check he gets every two weeks. He's not sure where he'll end up, but wherever it is, it better be a place he can actually help people. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket. He really should ignore it, especially since his boss is somewhat upset with him. He does anyway. 

It's a text from Harry.  _ I'm lonely :(  _

Harry hates staying home all day by himself. It's boring and he gets lonely, and he told Louis the other day that being by himself makes it easier for his brain to spiral down a dark path. It's not something he can help though, and Harry doesn't seem upset enough with it to demand change. 

He glances at the clock. It's two-forty.  _ how was therapy today? _

_ Not fun :(( _

Louis chews on his lip. _ why's that? _

It takes a full minute to get a response. _ Because kelly wants me to talk to you about something i really dont wanna talk about with you.  _ A second one follows quickly _. Or with anyone _

Louis squints his eyes at the screen, trying to figure out what Harry could be referring to. As far as he knows, Harry tells him close to everything, aside from what happened to him.  _ why don't you want to tell me? and why does she want you to tell me? _

_ It's awkward and scary for me _ , Harry writes,  _ and she wants me to tell you because she thinks you deserve to know _

Now Louis' really confused.  _ i dont think that's fair. i don't deserve to know anything you dont want to tell me _

_ You're my partner. and she thinks that, as my partner, you need to know some stuff. about me.  _

_ what kind of stuff? _

_ Sexual stuff.  _

_ Oh _ , Louis immediately thinks. Oh, fuck. Fuck. He doesn't want to have that conversation with Harry.  _ He's  _ been dreading having that conversation with him; he can't even imagine how Harry feels about it. He's so fucking scared he's going to accidentally say the wrong thing and have it put a wedge between them. Sex is something Harry's never, ever going to have a completely healthy relationship with again. And if Louis fucks up, if he says something that sits with Harry the wrong way, he can do severe damage to their relationship. Harry feels safe with him. He can't fuck that up. 

_ Don't tell my anything you dont want to just because kelly said you should _ , he types, and he doesn't know if he's saying it for his sake or for Harry's. Maybe both. He's not sure. All he knows for sure is that his heart is pounding. 

_ You dont want me to listen to my therapist? _

_ I want you to listen to yourself. _

_ But she's right lou. Im not even close to ready to have sex again. She thinks me being open with you about this will be a good first step. _

She has a fair point. She does. Louis can't deny it. He just doesn't want to ruin the trust he's built up with Harry. _ I don't need sex, harry. you know that right? i'd be perfectly okay if we never had sex for the rest of our lives. i mean that _

_ We used to have sex like every day louis _

_ things are different now babe. for one, neither of us are as young as we used to be. and 2 you've been thru some shit.  _

_ Can we please just talk about this when you get home? _

God. For once Louis is trying to the one trying to avoid a serious conversation. It's highly likely that the only reason why Harry is being so brave about this is because it's over text, but it doesn't matter. He's still being responsible with this. 

_ sure love _ , Louis sends, because he doesn't have a choice. They need to have this conversation eventually, anyway. He knows that. He just didn't realize it would come so soon. 

Harry is sitting at the kitchen table working on a puzzle when Louis gets home. 

"Hi, babe," Louis says quietly, kicking off his shoes. Moose comes trampling over to him and Louis gives him a few seconds of half-hearted pets before going over to the table. Both the cats are sitting on top of it, despite how many times Louis has warned Harry that they will knock the puzzle pieces off, and Moose will eat them. He doesn't listen, and Louis doesn't actually care. 

Harry gives him a small smile and Louis immediately recognizes that he was right: Harry isn't feeling so brave about this after all. 

"Do you want to talk about it now or later, sweetheart?" Louis asks softly. "I'm okay with whichever."

"Now. I want to get this over with." His breath hitches, and fuck. Harry can't be crying already. If he starts this early, this will be the most painful conversation Louis' ever had to endure with him. He looks down at the table. "I don't want you looking at me differently. Or, like. Feeling differently about me."

"Nothing you could say would make me feel any different," Louis denies, shaking his head. "I swear to God, Harry. I fucking love you, okay? And nothing can change that."

"Can we sit down on the couch?" Harry whispers, completely ignoring what Louis said. Louis nods and grabs Harry's hand. He leads them to the couch, and when they sit, he doesn't let go of Harry's hand. 

"I want to make this as painless for you as possible," Louis tells him. "Go at your own pace. Tell me to shut up if I'm saying something wrong. Tell me as much or as little as you want."

Harry nods slowly. His hand twitches in Louis', and Louis lets go, thinking that's what he wants. Instantly, Harry's hand darts out to grab his hand back, holding it tightly. "Don't let go of me," he breathes out, rushed. 

"Okay, okay." Louis grabs Harry's other hand too, so both of Harry's hands are enclosed in his own. He runs his thumbs over Harry's knuckles and squeezes softly. "I'm here for you, love. In whatever way you need me to be. 

It takes Harry an incredibly long time to start talking. He sits there, staring down at the couch, breathing hard. They are both sitting with their legs crossed on the couch facing one another; this way, Louis can take in every shift of Harry's facial expression and any movement he makes. He's more comfortable knowing he should be able to read Harry easily. 

Harry takes a deep breath before he starts talking. "My mom was the one who called you from the hospital, right?" Louis nods once. "So she's the one who told you what was wrong with me, right? Like. What condition I was in?" Louis nods again, carefully noting how slow Harry's talking. "She -- I talked to her today. After my appointment. She said that she told you that there was something else going on with me that she didn't want to tell you because it was too personal."

"She did, yeah." Louis squints at him, trying to figure out where this is going next. Harry takes another deep breath. He goes to open his mouth, but immediately closes it and shakes his head. Louis squeezes his hands tightly, leans in a little closer. "I promise you, I'm going to love you and want to be with you no matter what."

Harry's face scrunches up like he's trying not to cry even though he really, really wants to. "I, um. Fuck. I was -- the doctors -- I." He pauses and curses underneath his breath. "Just give me a second please."

"Take as long as you need, love."

Harry closes his eyes and exhales shakily. "The doctors ran a bunch of tests on me. Like, a lot. I don't remember a lot from the first few days, but I remember that. Like, every five minutes they were doing another test. But, um. Since they knew where I came from, they wanted to test me. For, like. They wanted to test me for STD's."

Louis keeps his face comfortably blank, because he knows Harry's eyes could open any second and that Louis can't have some type of look on his face. Outwardly, he looks calm. Inwardly, he's terrified. For Harry, mostly. Because there's some gnarly fucking STD's out there, ones that don't ever go away. Louis doesn't even think about what that could mean for himself. Whatever it is, Louis doesn't care. He meant it what he told that to Harry. 

"I had three different ones," Harry says, voice hoarse. He's eyes open. There's tears waiting to be shed in them. "They -- by some fucking miracle, all three of them could be cured. I -- I don't have them now. Like, they won't come back."

"That's good," Louis breathes, relieved. "That's so good. I'm sure that was a relief to you."

Harry nods, his bottom lip quivering. "I felt so fucking disgusting when they told me," he cries, and immediately, Louis shuts that kind of talk down. He pulls Harry towards him, presses a quick kiss to the side of his head, and hugs him. 

"That doesn't make you disgusting. It's not shameful. Shit happens, love. People get diagnosed with STD's every day, and those people had a choice in being careful. You didn't. So don't feel like that changes you're, like. Don't think that changes how I'd love you."

He cringes at his choice of words, but Harry nods into his neck, sniffling quietly. He pulls back and they resume holding hands. Thankfully, there's no tears on his cheeks. 

"Kelly told me I didn't need to tell you that if I didn't want to," Harry tells him, sniffling again. "I'm, like. Cured. Healthy, or whatever. It wouldn't affect us at all if I didn't tell you, but I wanted to tell you. I felt like you deserved to know."

Louis wants to tell him again that he doesn't need to know anything, but he knows Harry already knows that. "Okay. Thank you for trusting me."

Harry nods and looks back down at the couch. "She did, however, told me I needed to tell you about 'my attitude towards sex,' as she put it." He waits a few seconds before asking timidly, "Are you upset we haven't had sex yet?"

Louis' eyes nearly bulge out of his head. "Fuck no," he spits, his filter malfunctioning. He probably shouldn't be so blunt right now, but fuck. "Harry, I  _ promise _ you. I  _ promise _ you, there has not been a split second that I was upset because we haven't had sex."

"I believe you," Harry whispers. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me for that."

"Okay, I won't. But. Thanks." Harry laughs quietly, but it falls a little flat. "I'm. . . I'm just really terrified of sex," Harry whispers, sounding so fucking ashamed of himself, like he doesn't have every right to be. He was violated to the highest degree. He was raped. Repeatedly. For six years straight. He has every right to be terrified of sex. 

Louis tells him as much, and Harry nods miserably. "I know. I know. But I -- I don't know how I'm ever going to get over it." His chest stutters. "I can't even masturbate," he whispers, voice so low and hoarse Louis barely hears it. Once he hears it, once he processes it, he has no fucking idea what to say.

"Harry," he says slowly. 

Harry lets out a small cry. "I  _ know _ ," he groans, taking one of his hands from Louis' to hide his face. The other is clutching so hard to Louis that it almost hurts. "I don't know why I can't. I just -- I feel so fucking exposed, like somebody's watching me, and half the time I can't even -- I can't even get hard. It's -- God. I don't even  _ want _ to do it, but knowing that I  _ can't _ makes me feel so fucking stupid."

"You're not stupid, baby." He gently pulls Harry's hand from his face so he can pull Harry towards him again. This time, Harry collapses into his arms, his arms going around Louis' neck and his face pressed against Louis' shoulder. He almost scrambles to put himself in Louis' lap, and Louis wraps his arms around him as tight as he can to let him feel as safe as possible. "You haven't -- not even once?"

"No," Harry whimpers, and Louis shushes him. 

"I'm just asking. There's no shame in not wanting to, or, like. Not being able to." He kisses the back of Harry's head and starts running his hand down Harry's back like he always does. 

Harry lets out a shaky breath. "I feel like such an idiot."

"Baby," Louis says, trying to keep any pity out of his voice. "Think about it, love. You're sexually traumatized, okay? You were violated in the worst ways possible. Anyone would have trouble doing anything associated with sex after that." 

"I know," Harry mumbles. "Kelly told me that too."

"Then I'm sure she pointed out that your depression doesn't help either," Louis continues. "Depression makes everything seem so much less enjoyable, even sex. Doesn't it, like, lower your sex drive?"

Harry nods into his shoulder. "Yeah. It can."

"So it's not surprising that you can't get off," Louis tells him. "And it's certainly not something to be ashamed of. It's not -- I hadn't realized that it was something you struggled with, but it makes a lot of sense that you do."

Harry sniffles and shifts in Louis' lap a little. "I hate what they took from me."

Louis closes his eyes. "I know, baby. Me too. But you're healthy, right? You're healthy, and most days, you're happy, I think."

"Are you telling me I should be grateful because it could be worse?"

"No," Louis denies immediately, his eyes shooting open. "No, definitely not. I'd never say anything like that. I just meant that, like. When you're sad that you can't, um, masturbate, maybe remind yourself of things that don't make you sad."

Harry sighs quietly. "Are you sure you won't be mad if I need a few more months to, like. To be intimate with you again?"

"I promise," Louis tells him. He squeezes Harry's waist. "I seriously, seriously don't mind. I'll wait however long it takes, and I won't be disappointed if you're never ready."

"Good," Harry murmurs. "That makes me feel a lot better."

Louis smiles at that. "I'm glad." Harry sniffles and sits up before standing. Louis frowns, confused. "Where are you going?"

Harry gives him a small, weak smile over his shoulder before going back to the kitchen table. He kisses both of the cat's heads before sitting back down. "I wanna finish my puzzle," he mumbles, and Louis knows that means  _ I love you but I'd really rather you didn't touch me right now _ , so Louis gives him a gentle smile and comes over to sit across the table from him.

The following night, Louis' shuffling around his room, trying to figure out where to start cleaning first. 

The problem is that the room isn't even dirty, it's just cluttered. And the reason why it's cluttered is because he went from having a giant bedroom to a small one. One night he cleans, and the next morning he wakes and boom: everything's a mess again. It's aggravating. So he's decided that tonight, at eleven p.m. on a Monday, he's going to try and find some things he can get rid of. 

He's an hour into playing with things he found while cleaning when Harry comes in without knocking. He has his pillow and blanket tucked to his chest with one arm, while Penny is squirming in the other one. Harry sets her down before frowning at Louis, who's currently wearing his high school drama t-shirt (he wanted to see if it still, okay, and it does) while fiddling with the stuffed toy elephant Nick got him from South Africa. 

"What are you doing?" Harry asks, cocking his head to the side in confusion. 

Louis shrugs and wags the elephant in the air at him. "His name is Benny."

He doesn't realize that maybe it's not a good idea to be pissing around with a stuffed animal his ex-fiancé got him only a few months ago at midnight until Harry asks where Benny came from. "Um, Nick gave him to me," he says, face red. "It's from South Africa, I -- sorry. Maybe it's weird that I still have it."

Harry snorts and comes over to him after setting his stuff on Louis' bed. "Why would it be weird?" he asks as he sits down next to Louis on the floor. He takes the elephant from Louis' hand and inspects it. "Doesn't really seem fair to throw Benny out just because he came from Nick, does it? This is his  _ home _ ."

Louis smiles and shakes his head at him. "You're weird, Harry." For being so protective of a stuffed elephant and for not caring that Louis still has a gift from Nick. Harry sets Benny down and looks inside the box Louis' sorting through, and Louis clears his throat quietly. "This whole box, like. They're all souvenirs. From Nick's trips."

And his engagement ring is tucked inside a pair of socks Nick got him from Texas, but he doesn’t mention that.

"Oh," Harry murmurs. He pulls the box closer to himself and pulls something out. "Is this -- is this a package of gum with Obama's face on it?"

God, Nick was weird too. Maybe that's just Louis' type. "Yes, it is," Louis laughs, trying not to be embarrassed about it. "It's from Kenya."

Harry nods and puts it back in the box before pulling something else out. It's even weirder, somehow, -- a rhino made out of recycled soda cans from Zimbabwe -- and Louis grabs it from his hand and places it back in the box when Harry gives him a look. 

"It's good for the environment," Louis mumbles, his face bright red. All the gifts Nick got him had some. . . quirks to them, but Louis genuinely looked forward to receiving them. Nick tried finding things that Louis would actually enjoy or laugh at, not lame t-shirts or mugs. Although, to be fair, there are three or four mugs in this box. 

"This is cool," Harry says. "You have, like. Pieces of places you've never even been to."

Louis nods. He's about to tell Harry about the spider that brutally attacked him a few minutes ago when he finally processes the fact that Harry came in here with a pillow and blanket. "Why'd you bring your stuff in here?" he asks, confused. 

Harry immediately looks down, and Louis frowns, scooting closer to him. "Maybe I should've asked first, but, like." Harry shrugs. "I was, um. Could I sleep in here tonight? With you? Like, in your bed, I mean." He gives Louis a shy look. "You don't have to say yes."

"Of course I'm going to say yes," Louis tells him. He wonders if Harry actually thought he'd deny him. "But are you sure you're comfortable with that?"

Harry looks back down at his lap and hesitates a second before nodding. Louis goes to open his mouth, tell him that Louis doesn't want him doing this unless he’s one-hundred percent certain, but Harry shushes him. "I want to. I swear. And, yes, I'm comfortable with it."

"What changed?"

"Our talk, like." Harry shrugs again. "It made me more comfortable with the idea. Of being in the same bed as you. Not that I -- um, I just mean that now that we've. . . established my boundaries, I want to be in here with you."

Louis squints at him a little. "That's great, I'm glad, but. We didn't actually establish any boundaries." Harry frowns at him, and Louis' quick to clarify what he means. "I just mean that all you said is that you weren't ready for sex. I want to be completely certain that we're on the same page, is all."

"Oh," Harry whispers. He glances off to the side before nodding to himself. "I don't want to do anything we aren't doing now." Louis smiles, proud of Harry, and then Harry rushes out, "If that's okay with you. If you want to do more, um -- "

"I want what you want, you know that." He leans over to kiss the side of Harry's shoulder. Harry gives him a soft smile and grabs his hand, pulling him closer so he can rest his head against Louis' chest. It's an awkward position, one that's going to be hard to maintain comfortably for Harry, so Louis presses a kiss to Harry's head and pushes him back gently before leading them to the bed. Harry immediately lays down on the right side, the side Louis normally sleeps in, and he didn't realize that he's been sleeping on Harry's side the entire time he's been sleeping without him until now. Maybe he was trying to save it for Harry or something, he's not sure. But as he lays down on the left side and stares at Harry, he's definitely sure that this is where they belong. 

"I brought my book," Harry mumbles quietly. He sits up and grabs his copy of  _ Lord of the Flies _ , smooths over the cover with his hand. "I thought maybe you could read to me again?" He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "That's dumb, I'm -- "

"Hey, stop doing that," Louis scolds. He grabs the book from Harry's hands and sits up so he's in a spot with better light. Harry opens his eyes again, so Louis leans forward to grab his cheek gently. "You say something perfectly reasonably, or ask something perfectly okay, and then you immediately try to backtrack. Don't edit yourself around me."

Harry looks more embarrassed than anything else. "Okay. Sorry."

Penny jumps up on the bed then, meowing loudly. Harry smiles at her and pulls her towards them. She quickly gets comfortable between them, purring when they both start to scratch her. Moose comes in a few seconds later, probably wondering what Penny was yelling about, and when he sees that it's time to go to bed, he jumps up on the bed and makes his space at the bottom of the bed. Their little family isn't complete until Ellie strolls in about twenty minutes later, when Louis is reading quietly to Harry, whose face is resting against Louis' abdomen. She jumps up too, quickly dominating the small space between Harry's legs, and Louis has to pause for a moment to take in how right this feels. 

Harry kisses him seven days later, and then immediately pulls away, looking horrified. 

They're having a quiet night in like usual, playing a game of Sorry! on the carpet as they watch  _ Shark Tank _ on the TV. It wasn't Harry's favorite show at first because he didn't understand any of the business jargon they use, but once Louis explained it to him, he's taken a liking to it. He never doesn't pout when one of the entrepreneurs don't get a deal, though. Moose is laying next to Harry, his head resting against his thigh as Harry plays. They don't say a lot, and Louis thinks it's because there's not much to be said right now. 

Louis finishes his turn and then glances up briefly to look at the product the person's pitching when all of a sudden Harry's right there, and then he's kissing him. Louis doesn't even have time to do anything -- although, he's not sure what he would've done if he had the time to process the situation -- before Harry's recoiling backwards, his chest heaving and eyes wide. 

Louis stares at him for a few seconds, beyond confused. He has no idea why Harry just did that. He had no idea Harry was planning that, either. Everything was completely normal between them, so Louis doesn't understand why Harry felt like now was the time to cross the boundary  _ he  _ set. 

"Harry. . . " he whispers, and Harry jolts at the sound of his voice.

"Don't," he pleads. The embarrassment is now flushed out of his face, leaving him looking ghostly pale. "I don't -- I -- I didn't -- " Harry doesn't finish what he was going to say before he abruptly stands. He makes a beeline towards the bathroom, and Louis follows him, concerned. He's about to ask Harry not to lock the door when he hears a quiet tick, meaning Harry already has. 

"H," Louis says to the closed door. He's not sure if he should be going after Harry right now, but he can't not do  _ something _ . "Are you okay?"

"Please go away."

"Har -- "

"I want to go to my mom's," Harry says, his voice breaking at the end. Louis' stomach drops and he's about to beg Harry to just talk to him about this when the bathroom door unlocks and opens, revealing a very nervous looking Harry. "Please take me to my mom's."

Louis feels borderline hysterical. "Love, can you just  _ talk _ to me? Or  _ look _ at me?"

"Fine," Harry whispers, his arms wrapping around his stomach. He still doesn't look at Louis. "I'll text her to come pick me up."

Louis furrows his eyebrows, so stunned he feels frozen. "You don't have to do that, Harry, I can -- " Before he can finish, Harry is rushing passed him and into his room. That door locks, too, and Louis stands there for what feels like a minute but is apparently a lot longer because there's a knock on the door. He blinks, still in shock, before going back to the living room and opening the door. 

Anne stands there, looking worried. "Is he alright? He said he wanted to come home."

This is stupid. This is all so, so stupid. They were having a perfectly fine evening, and then Harry kissed him, which -- okay, Louis can understand that maybe Harry thought he was ready and quickly found out he wasn't ready to, but running to his mother for saving is a bit fucking melodramatic. Louis' pretty fucking sure he doesn't deserve that when he literally didn't do anything wrong. He didn't do  _ anything _ , for that matter. 

"He kissed me and then freaked out about it," Louis tells her. 

She furrows her eyebrows. "He kissed you? Now? Why?"

Louis wants to laugh, but he doesn't because he's pretty sure that'd concern Anne. "I don't know. We weren't even doing anything, like, romantic. We were playing a fucking board game and he just kissed me, and then he ran away to the bathroom and texted you. I swear to God, I didn't do anything."

Anne sighs and puts a hand to her forehead briefly. "Did you kiss him back? Maybe that's what scared him?"

"It didn't last more than a second, so no, I didn't. I didn't have time to even process what was happening until Harry was half way out the door."

"You're being awfully hard on him," Anne points out, although she doesn't sound judgmental. Louis' about to defend himself wildly, but she's right, he's being overly bitchy about all this. It's just. . .

"This is going to sound really fucking stupid," Louis says, "but I don't think  _ I _ was ready for that yet. Like, I wasn't expecting that at all. I thought it'd take him months, at least, to make that move."

Anne nods and tells him that's not stupid before excusing herself to go talk to Harry. "I'm going to try and convince him to stay here," Anne tells him as she walks in the living room. "I doubt he actually wants to go, anyway. He's just scared."

Louis nods. He doesn't want Harry to go either. But he hates how opposite Harry's moods can get; one minute, Louis' confident that Harry's okay right now and that he's happy, and the next Harry freaks out and Louis' worried everything's been messed up. It's also hard to grasp that there's not a single place in this world that Harry will feel absolutely safe in, or a single person that his faith won't ever waver in. And of course Louis knows that's how trauma can affect someone and that it's not personal, and that Harry would probably give a hell of a lot to change it. He also knows that it's going to take a long time to change. 

It takes fifteen minutes for Anne to come back, and this time, the time doesn't go by fast. It goes painstakingly slow, and Louis' stuck halfheartedly playing with Penny in an attempt to distract himself. When she does come back, she doesn't look completely crushed or defeated, so Louis takes that as a good sign. 

"He's just really embarrassed," Anne tells him, keeping her voice low so Harry can't hear them. "He's not necessarily scared or panicked, which is a good thing. I promise you, Louis, if you go in there and laugh this off, it's not going to be a big deal. He's just embarrassed and worried that you're going to think he's a joke."

Louis frowns, chewing on his bottom lip. "I don't like that he was so impulsive about it. It took him months to start sleeping in my bed, and then he just. . . kisses me, like it's nothing. I don't like that. He's usually more tactile about these type of things."

Anne nods at him, and then takes a deep breath. "I understand that, dear, I really do. But maybe that means he's starting to trust you at a deeper level, and he thinks that means he doesn't have to be so strategic about things."

That's true. "I suppose," Louis murmurs. He sighs loudly. "Alright. I should go talk to him. Thank you for defusing the situation. Sorry you had to come here to do it."

"Don't be," Anne says sincerely. "I miss having him around. It's nice to know I can still help him."

Louis gives her a sympathetic smile and hugs her quickly before he goes to Harry's room. He's sitting on the bed in there, but there's no blankets or pillows anymore because they're all on Louis' bed, so it looks sad. He's picking at his nails, and Louis opens the door completely, earning the attention of Harry. 

"Don't bother your fingers," Louis mumbles, more out of instinct than anything. Harry whispers a small apology and slides his hands under his thighs so he can't pick at them anymore. Louis stands there, unsure of what to say. Anne told him to make light of this, but he's not sure he wants to. "Why'd you kiss me?" he asks quietly. He has to know what Harry was thinking.

"Because I love you," Harry says easily. 

"I love you too, babe, but," he comes over to sit next to Harry on the bed, "we both know that it's not that simple."

Harry shakes his head, sighing quietly. "I know. I know it's not. But I want it to be, and for a moment it felt like it was. And then I kissed you, and I was immediately reminded that I'm not the kind of person who can do that anymore."

That's all that Louis wanted to hear, that helps him understand, so he stops worrying about his needs and focuses back on Harry's. "So you're telling me that you didn't just do all this because you realized I was beating you in our game?"

Harry laughs weakly. "I hate you sometimes."

"I'll tell you what," Louis begins. "If you think that we don't need to talk about this any further right now, we can go back out in the living room and I'll accidentally trip near the board and mess everything up, so we can start again and you can have another chance at winning."

Harry laughs again, this time with a little more happiness in it. "You can blame it on Moose," he says, turning to show Louis his smile. 

Louis nods. "The reason why I got a dog is so I can blame him if anything goes missing or gets ruined, anyway," Louis jokes, and he knows by the look on Harry's face that this small fiasco is done and over with, at least for now. Still, he needs to make sure. "You sure we don't need to talk about this anymore?"

"I'm sure." Harry reaches over and grabs Louis' hand. "I promise."

Louis squeezes his hand before they come back into the living room. It's almost perfect when they find Ellie sprawled out on their game board, looking completely unbothered.

Harry's quiet on the anniversary of the day he came back. 

He fell asleep in Louis' bed last night, yet when Louis wakes, he finds nothing but cool sheets next to him. When he gets up to take a piss, he sees Harry's door shut, and he just knows that he's in there, either sleeping or being sad. Any other day, Louis would go in there and force him out of his mood, but Louis doesn't think he should do that today. Harry's allowed to feel any way he feels on this day. 

In the grand scheme of things, maybe it's stupid to be so weird about a certain date. Louis knows that, and he still feels off himself. It's just. . . a year ago today, he was told that his favorite person in the entire world wasn't dead. He got to hug Harry again for the first time in six years. He got to sit there with him, to just be with him, after so long of nothing. And to think everything they've been through has happened all in the last year is insane. Most days, it seems a lot longer than that, but today, it feels like it was only yesterday when Louis got that call. 

Louis had taken this day off weeks ago, so instead of getting ready for work he makes himself a cup of coffee and sits down at the couch. He wonders if Harry's awake when he flicks on the TV and turns on _ The Chase _ . His question is answered about fifteen minutes later. 

Harry doesn't look like he's been crying, so that's good. He gives Harry a small smile before laying down next to him, putting his head in Louis' lap. Louis stretches over him to put the coffee mug on the table. He presses a kiss to Harry's temple and starts to play with his hair. 

"I'm fine," Harry mumbles, turning his face into Louis' thigh. He yawns before speaking again. "Like, you don't have to worry about me. It's just another day, you know? It's, like. Weird to think about, about it being a year, but it's just another day in the grand scheme of things. I'm not going to lose my shit."

Louis laughs quietly. "Well that's good. It'd be okay if you did, though. I wouldn't judge you."

Harry doesn't respond, and he doesn't say anything for a few more minutes. Finally, he says, "Niall texted me this morning. At midnight, like he said he would."

That makes Louis smile. Niall's a good person. "Yeah?"

Harry nods. "Yeah. And so did Liam and Zayn. Not at midnight, but they did this morning."

"You know they're always there for you, right?" Louis asks, still running his fingers through Harry's hair. "Not just today. They still love you."

"I know," Harry says quietly, and it sounds final, so Louis lets him be for now. 

They watch TV together all day until about three in the afternoon, when Harry suddenly gets up and goes to the kitchen table. He sits down and starts working on a new puzzle, and Louis inwardly sighs because he has a slight headache and doing a puzzle is only going to make it worse. Still, after asking Harry if he could and Harry consenting, Louis comes over to sit with at the table. 

It takes them forty minutes to separate all the pieces and finish the border, and when they do, Harry glances up at him. "Can I say something kind of morbid?" he asks, earning a nervous laugh out of Louis. Lord only knows what he's going to say. 

"Sure."

Harry sets his chin on his palm and looks back down at the puzzle before sighing quietly. "It's been over a year since I was raped last," he murmurs. 

Louis' stomach plummets, because he selfishly hates when Harry talks about it and he doesn't know what to say. He licks his lips and frantically tries to think of something useful, but all he can think to say is, "Oh."

"It's just weird to think about."

"I can only imagine," Louis whispers, and it's the truth. He doesn't have any idea what it'd be like to be violated so deeply like that, and he hopes to everything above that he never has to find out. 

Harry sighs again, this time louder. He doesn't say anything more, even though Louis gets the feeling he wants to. 

A few hours later, when they're laying in bed, Harry rolls over onto his side facing away from Louis to grab something off the floor. Whatever it is, he fumbles with, and it takes him a long enough time to roll back over for Louis to catch sight of three almost-parallel scars running across Harry's back, on his hip. Louis remembers Anne telling him about them, about how bad they looked and how Harry didn't remember what they were caused by. They do look pretty gnarly; the skin is all bumpy and thick where the scars lay, and Louis doesn't mean to keep staring but he can't help it. 

When Harry rolls back over, he sees Louis' intense gaze and asks him what's wrong. 

"Nothing," Louis mumbles, shaking his head. "Nothing." He sees the book in Harry's hand, a new one since they finished reading  _ Lord of the Flies _ the other day. Louis glances at the cover. " _ Huckleberry Finn _ ," he reads, and then furrows his eyebrows, taking the book from Harry. "Why do you keep picking, like, books they've used in the high school curriculum for the last fifty years? You missed out on this whole dystopian craze; don't you want to figure out what the heck  _ The Hunger Games _ is all about?".

Harry snatches the book back, looking a mix of mildly offended and amused. "First of all, that book came out in, like, 2008. I was there for that. Second of all, I don't pick them, Kelly does." He smooths over the cover and turns the book over in his hands. "She's pretty well educated, went to college and all that, so I figured I should listen to her recommendations. She's smarter than me, so, like." Harry shrugs. 

Louis frowns at him. "You're smart too."

Harry snorts. "Didn't go to college, did I?"

"Yeah, you did."

Harry rolls his eyes, giving Louis a bitchy look. "Didn't  _ finish _ college, did I?"

"Harry," Louis says, shaking his head. "College isn't everything."

"Says the person who graduated with a bachelor's degree," he mutters, irritated. He grumbles something underneath his breath before handing the book back to Louis and sighing. "I'm not in the mood to argue, so can we please drop it?"

Louis bites down on his lip and nods. "Fine."

"Good." Harry moves to his side, facing Louis. Any trace of anger that was there only a moment ago is gone. "Why were you making that face?"

Louis shrugs. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. Don't be annoying." To show he's only kidding, he grabs Louis' forearm and squeezes. "We always talk about me. About my problems. Feels like you never open up to me anymore."

Now that year seems like it's been five. Harry's laying here, in a different person's bed, being a responsible person and asking why his boyfriend's upset. It's almost nauseating; Louis could've said that exact same thing to Harry seven or eight years ago, when _ Harry _ was the one who was always tending to _ Louis _ ' needs. Because of that, because Louis has been on the other side of wanting his boyfriend to talk about himself, he replies truthfully. "I just noticed the scars. On your hip. It's not, like -- I haven't noticed them before, is all. I don't mean to be rude."

"Oh," Harry murmurs, looking away from Louis. His hand doesn't move from Louis' arm though, so Louis knows he didn't make some huge mistake by being honest. "My mom freaked out when she saw those ones. I told her I didn't remember what happened, but like." He clears his throat. "I do. I wasn't even high when it happened, so I can remember it pretty well."

Louis asks what happened, because he's pretty sure that's what Harry wants him to do. 

"It wasn't anything overly dramatic," Harry tells him, his voice quieting down. "It was just a knife. They, like. They wouldn't let the marks heal, though. They kept reopening them whenever they scabbed over for some reason. I think they thought it was funny."

A fierce anger rips across Louis' heart. "That's fucked," he snaps, because what they fuck. That's fucking sadistic. And on top of everything else Harry was already dealing with, too.

Harry makes a noise. "I have scars all over me, Louis."

Louis winces. "I haven't noticed any of them before. Fuck, I'm sorry."

"I keep them covered up," Harry murmurs. "I don't like looking at them."

Louis' throat feels dry, and as he tries to gain the ability to talk, to come up with a reply, Harry nudges the book in Louis' hands. "Read," he demands, and Louis does, because reading seems like the easiest thing to do right now. He messes up a lot, even skips whole paragraphs on accident sometimes, but Harry doesn't point it out. 

Harry drifts off to sleep after twenty minutes, and Louis reads silently to himself. If he doesn't, his mind will wander, and he doesn't want to deal with that right now. 

There are still days that Harry gets explosively mad for no reason. 

Well, there's always a reason. Always. Either he's tired, or anxious, or there's something else going on that he doesn't tell Louis about right away. It's incredibly frustrating. Louis' a defensive guy, so when Harry snaps at him, Louis wants to snap back, or at least have the ability to act hurt, but he can't. He has to be patient and gentle and carefully coax Harry into telling him what's really wrong. 

Like this morning, after he's done getting ready for work and is eating his breakfast on the couch, Harry comes out of their room, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. At first, Louis doesn't realize anything's wrong. 

"Did I wake you, love?" Louis asks, leaning forward to set his bowl of oatmeal on the table. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be loud."

Harry rolls his eyes and looks away. "I wasn't sleeping."

"Oh. How long have you been awake, then?"

Harry ignores him, choosing to scoff loudly and shake his head instead. "You know you -- you always try to, like, be this -- this nurturing, all-knowing hero, and sometimes you don't have a fucking clue about -- about anything, and -- "

"Hey," Louis interrupts, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I  _ mean _ you do the stupidest, smallest things to make me feel a fraction better, like leaving me the fluffy towels or getting the same soap I used before even though I  _ know _ they don't carry it at the store you usually go to, but other times there's things that are so fucking obvious that I need from you and you don't notice."

He's scared. Lashing out like a wounded animal. Louis can recognize that in his shriveled position and jumbled words. But about what, Louis doesn't know. Even though it's apparently obvious. 

Louis waits for him to finish and maintains an even voice as he says, "I'm not a mind reader, babe. If you need something, you have to ask me for it."

Harry makes a small noise, half-whimper, half-scoff. "Maybe I can't fucking ask for some things. I know you expect me to be better since it's been over a year, but I'm not. Not always. I need  _ help _ . And you don't seem to fucking get that."

Harry'll apologize for this later, Louis thinks. He'll take it all back, he will. Because both he and Louis know that isn't true. Louis spent the entire night two nights ago comforting Harry because he wanted to sleep but he was anxious as fuck and couldn't. He went to work on two hours of sleep and then spent the entire night entertaining Harry when he got home. Harry knows that, he does. And about the whole 'expecting him to be better' thing, well. Now Harry's just projecting. 

"You know you can always come to me for help, Harry."

" _ Can I? _ " Harry snaps, face flushing. "Are you sure? Because every fucking time I turn around you're at work or going to work or running errands or just -- not here."

Okay, they've most likely arrived at the crux of the problem. Louis' relieved; sometimes it can take all day, and he has to leave for work in ten minutes. "You're mad because I work so much?" Louis asks, voice calm. When Harry gives him the crazed, frustrated look, Louis can feel his patience wearing down slightly. "I'm just trying to understand."

"That's what I mean, you don't get it."

"Why don't I get?" And, okay, his tone is definitely less gentle, but  _ fuck _ . 

Harry uncrosses his arms to wipe his hands over his face before immediately crossing them over his chest again. He looks terrified and furious all at once. Harry turns his head to the side as he says, "I have therapy today."

"I know that. At twelve-thirty."

"And you're not going to be there."

Louis' thankful Harry's not looking at him because he can't help how his face scrunches with annoyance. "I'm never there. Both times you go during the week, I'm at work. Which, if that's what this is about, we can talk about you moving your appointments to the evening or to Tuesdays or Sundays. I can work with you here, Harry, you just need to -- "

"You're not going to be there  _ today _ .  _ Today _ ."

Louis' at a total loss. It's a Thursday. A completely normal Thursday. He has no idea what Harry's alluding to. "What's so special about today, baby?"

Harry lets out a wet scoff and clenches his jaw. "You don't even know, you don't even remember, I'm doing this for you and you don't -- "

"Harry. Fucking talk to me, please. If I forgot something, please remind me so you don't have to be so worked up over this."

Harry looks at him incredulously. "I get my meds today, Louis. My antidepressants. Which _ you _ are forcing me to take, if you forgot. And you don't even remember? I told you -- "

"You didn't tell me," Louis denies immediately, not caring about patience or kindness or anything. He knows for a fact that Harry didn't tell him, because he would've remembered. He would've scheduled the day off and pissed his boss off without a second thought because that's what he does for Harry. And no, he's not saying he's doing something spectacular in doing so, but he at least deserves some credit. 

Harry's face crumples. "Yes, I did. Monday. I told you, when I called you when you got off work. I told you then."

Louis knows exactly what he's talking about, because Louis had to go quickly and he could tell there was something Harry wanted to tell him, and he forgot to ask about it later on. "I was going to the bank, remember? They were about to close, and I was in a rush, and I had to let you go really fast. You didn't tell me anything besides hi."

Realization floods through Harry's face, and he goes from looking upset to incredibly embarrassed. Humiliated, even. "I'm suck a fucking idiot," he cries, covering his face with his hands again. He pulls them away after a moment, and his cheeks are dry for now. "I thought -- I was going to, I -- I thought I did, I thought -- I'm so sorry, I'm -- God, I'm just a fucking idiot, I -- "

"It's fine, H," Louis interrupts, giving him a small smile. "Mistakes happen, it's fine."

"But how come _ I'm _ the only one who's always making mistakes?"

Louis frowns at him. "You're not. I make mistakes all the time. I literally burnt the chicken last night and almost took the whole apartment complex down with it."

Harry doesn't laugh. He just looks sadder. "Lou. Don't joke."

"I'm not joking."

"It's different. You know it is."

"You're right," Louis agrees. "It is different. Because your mistake could be fixed with a simple conversation, while mine caused us to have to order that awful fish takeout that smelled like B.O. and wet dog, and I basically ruined the whole night. And I wasted a poor chicken's life."

Harry offers him a small smile as he looks down at his feet. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I get so frazzled I can't think straight sometimes."

"It's fine, love. I promise, I'm not mad." He stands and Harry looks up at him. "And I'm sorry, but I can't call off work so late, so I can't be there. But it'll be fine, okay? You're just getting them today. You won't have to take them without me being there with you. That'll be the hard part, yeah? And we'll get through it together."

Harry nods once. "Can I have a hug?" he whispers, sounding ashamed. Louis immediately crosses over to him and gathers him up his arms and squeezes him. 

"You'll be brilliant, H."

Harry presses a shy little kiss to the side of Louis' neck. "Not as brilliant as you always are."

Louis snorts at him. "Cheesy and untrue, but okay, I'll take it. Thank you." 

And as he tells Harry that he has to go, and Harry gives him that sad face, Louis' struck with the memory of how that felt, Nick telling him he had to go because duty was calling. It felt fucking terrible. So, after work, Louis goes to a store he normally doesn't go to because it's more expensive and farther away, and he buys Harry the shampoo he likes and a new cat toy for Penny that costs seventeen dollars and two more puzzles that he won't dare share how much they cost. He doesn't realize until he gives them to Harry that this is what Nick would do with the souvenirs, except that Nick's guilt-gifts were a lot more interesting. 

The antidepressants Harry try, of course, don't go over well. 

Louis' beginning to feel like Harry was right when he said that everything would always be complicated when it came to him. Not that it is his fault, or that Louis is upset at him for it, or anything like that. Louis' just pretty sure that someone, somewhere is punishing Harry for something. He can't even breathe without something going wrong. Louis is just happy that Harry is as strong as he is. 

It takes a week or two for the side-effects to really settle in, but once they do, Harry's miserable. He's constantly dizzy and nauseous, and any improvements the medication could be making is canceled out by him being understandably grumpy for the side-effects. Louis assumes it'll go away after a while, but a month into taking them, Harry is still dizzy as fuck and nauseous as ever, and by then it's been starting to affect his eating habits, so Louis has to sit him down and they have to talk about it. 

And, of course, Harry's beyond irritated. 

"You told me that I could just  _ try _ them. I tried them, Louis. And they make me feel like shit, so why the fuck should I go ahead and try something else?'

But eventually, surprisingly enough, he doesn't put up much of a fight when Louis talks to him about maybe switching to a different medication. And thankfully, the one side-effects of the second medication Harry tries is making him more sleepy, which is something both of them can handle. 

The medication Harry's on doesn't exactly change Harry's moods, but they do make him a whole lot less anxious. It makes Louis nervous -- he doesn't want him falling back down that depression hole like he did a few months back -- but he also doesn't want to risk Harry going back to being so nervous all the time. 

Eventually, Harry's antidepressants become part of the new normal. Harry takes one every night, doesn't even need Louis to remind him after the first few weeks. A small little pill can't fix everything -- hell, it barely fixes any of it -- but it helps in some ways. Above all, Harry's willingness to try it and keep up with it is prove in itself that he's getting better. (Getting better. It's always that he's  _ getting _ better. When will Louis be able to say that's he is better?) And Louis' just comforted by the fact that it's  _ something _ . 

Harry kisses him again in late May, and again, Louis' not expecting it. 

"My mom wants you to come over for dinner soon," Louis tells Harry, late one night. Harry is curled up on his side of the bed, staring up at Louis. Louis' sitting up and reading the menu for the new Chinese store a few blocks away; he'll pick some up for them tomorrow after work, and he needs to figure out what they'll order now. When Harry doesn't respond right away, Louis looks to him. "We need to try and work on expanding your comfort zone. It's just my mom, Harry. And my billion sisters, but. Does that sound fine?"

Harry shrugs. "I don't mind. Kelly's been saying she wants me to get out more, anyway. Like, she wants me to try going to the grocery store or something."

Louis nods at him. "Well, I agree with her. That'd be good for you."

It’s hard for Harry, the idea of going out. Harry's scared to go anywhere is because he was taken from somewhere as ordinary as a mall. It's not like he was in a sketchy neighborhood or some alley, he was at the fucking mall. Nowhere is safe for him. 

"Lay down," Harry demands, kicking him underneath the blanket lightly. They've only recently started sharing the same blanket at night. "I wanna sleep."

Louis snorts. "You still didn't tell me what you want from -- "

"Surprise me," Harry says, cutting him off. "I want cuddles. And sleep."

"Okay, hold on." He turns the volume off on his phone -- it makes him paranoid, leaving his phone on silent for so long, but the constant buzzing during the night while Harry is trying to sleep makes Harry anxious -- and sets in on the nightstand. He reaches down to pet Moose, Ellie and Penny after turning the light off, Moose being the only one to acknowledge him. He gets settled on his side, facing Harry.

"There," he says. "Happy?"

Harry nods and scoots closer to Louis. Automatically, Louis sets his hand on Harry's waist. Even in the dark, he can see Harry smile. 

Louis strokes his fingers over Harry's hip and starts to ask him a question, but before he can finish, Harry rushes forward and kisses him. It's quick, but not as short-lived as their last kiss was. Louis actually gets a chance to taste him this time. Harry pulls away, and Louis' hand on his hip freezes. 

"Can I do that again?" Harry asks, voice all breathy now. All Louis can do is nod shakily. Harry leans forward again, kissing Louis gently. When Louis doesn't kiss him back right away, Harry pauses just long enough to say, "Kiss me back. Please."

And Louis starts to, and it feels so good, so right, but then all the sudden it feels so scary. "Are you sure?" Louis asks, breaking them apart. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Kiss me. Please. Just for a little bit longer."

Everything in Louis' body is screaming at him not to. It's so scary. It's such a big step. He doesn't want to fuck this up. And what the fuck does this mean for them next? What if Harry feels pressured to kiss him more often now? What if -- 

Harry's lips are back on him, and no, Louis' worries don't all melt away, but they do quiet down. Louis kisses him back, only for a few moments, and then Harry pulls away one last time.

"Can we go to bed now?" he asks, and Louis' heart drops. 

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, I -- "

Harry cuts him off by setting his hand on Louis' cheek. "You're fine. I wanted to do that. But I'm actually tired, so."

Louis laughs, choked off and breathy. "Yeah. Okay. C'mere."

Harry turns around and shuffles backward into Louis' arms, and Louis holds him so softly tonight. He doesn't want to hurt him. 

The next morning when Louis' alarm goes off, Harry's awake. He's just pretending not to be. And he's as far from Louis as he can get. 

Fuck. Louis was right. Kissing Harry back was a mistake. He should've put his foot down, should've told Harry that he wasn't ready for that yet. Harry seemed so sure though, but Louis knows that he's not so sure anymore. He's probably been awake all night, regretting kissing him. Fucking shit. 

"Bye, H," Louis whispers when it's time to go. A muscle in Harry's pointer finger jumps, but he doesn't respond. 

He doesn't respond to any of Louis' texts that day, either. They usually text back and forth when Louis can manage it, but it's radio silent from Harry's end. After Louis' fourth text from an hour ago goes unanswered around noon, he sends  _ haz babe please let me know you're okay _ .

_ i'm fine lou _ , comes Harry's response less than a minute later. So Louis' suspicion that Harry was ignoring all his texts on purpose is true. 

When Louis drives home after picking up the Chinese food, he's angry. Pissed. Because Harry kissed _ him _ . Louis left that ball in Harry's court; he didn't pressure him at all. He made sure it was okay before he did anything. How is it that Harry's mad at him now? It's aggravating and unreasonable. But also, Louis' aware that Harry has his own shit to deal with that makes him do unreasonable things. It's just. . . the better Harry gets, the harder it is for Louis to be so understanding. It's like he gets out of practice. 

He parks and gets inside. Thankfully, Harry's laying balled up on the couch and not in his room. It gives Louis some indication of how bad Harry's feeling. 

"Hi," Louis greets, dropping his keys on the table near the door. He kicks his shoes off and pets Moose. "I brought Chinese."

"Okay," Harry murmurs quietly, not looking at him "I'll get some now, I think."

Louis squints his eyes at him. "Did you eat lunch?" Harry doesn't respond, just gets up and grabs the bags from Louis before going to the kitchen. Louis sighs, following. "Babe, you need to make sure you're eating."

"I ate breakfast, okay? Don't worry." 

But Louis worries. He worries all night. When Harry stiffens when Louis accidentally brushes up behind him to get to the cabinet, he worries. When Harry barely talks to him, Louis worries. When Harry stays on the other side of the couch like Louis has the plague, he worries. All he does is worry all night, until Harry finally looks at him, eyes wet. 

Louis mutes the episode of  _ American Ninja Warrior _ they're watching and turns to him. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Harry, who has his knees tucked against his chest and his arms around them, shrugs jerkily. "Are you sure you aren't mad at me because I'm not ready to have sex?"

Louis gives him a not-so-gentle look. "I've told you a million times, love. I'm only ready when you are. I'm perfectly okay if you aren't ready."

Harry taps on his knee anxiously. "Are you sure? Because, like. I could try. Try and see if I can handle it, like, um. We can -- if you want, if you need, you can, like, try to fuck me -- "

"Stop talking," Louis demands harshly. He can't hear Harry say that. 

"Louis, I promise, I'll try, I'll -- "

"I've told you so many times that it's okay that we aren't having sex. That I'm okay if we never do again."

Harry makes a small whimpering noise that kills a lot of the anger inside of Louis. "I don't know if I believe you anymore."

That strikes a nerve with Louis. A raw, trembling nerve. Harry doesn't feel like he's trustworthy anymore. If Harry stops being able to trust Louis, they're all screwed. "If this is about the kiss," Louis starts, and Harry shakes his head. 

"No. It's not. It's not about that."

"Because Harry, if it is -- "

"It's not."

Louis sighs, confused. "Then what, darling?"

Harry shrugs again and looks forward. His fingers are curling in towards his palm and his breath is going slightly uneven. Not panic-attack uneven, but uneven. "You're a grown man with needs, who has just come out of a relationship with a man who fucked around with you whenever you needed, and I'm just -- I can't give that to you. And I feel like you want it."

Louis furrows his eyebrows. "What makes you feel like I want it? I mean, if it's not about the kiss, then what?"

Harry takes a shuddering breath before letting out a small cry. He shakes his head at himself and wipes his eyes, glances a Louis briefly and mutters quietly that he needs a second. He seemingly gathers himself, because the next time he speaks, his voice is steady. "You were, um. I woke up around two, and around, like, five, you were, um. You were hard." 

"Oh, fuck." 

That's all he can say, really. Just. . . fuck. He can't help his that, obviously, but that doesn't mean it doesn't affect Harry. He was probably scared, Jesus Christ. Louis didn't even recognize that that could be a problem. He's honestly surprised this didn't happen sooner. 

"I didn't, like." Louis clears his throat. "I didn't, um, move around or anything, did I?"

Harry shakes his head. "No. You were just laying there. But, like. I was still laying in your arms, and I could, uh. I could feel. . . it."

"Christ, Harry. I'm so sorry."

"No," Harry says quietly, as he's beginning to pick at the fabric of his sweats. "You can't help it. I know that. It just. . . it made me really uncomfortable, I'm not going to lie."

Louis doesn't know what to say. He can't apologize, because it's not like he did it intentionally. He can't say it won't happen again; it probably will. There is something he can say though, he realizes. "I can promise you that it doesn't mean I want to have sex."

"You clearly do," Harry mumbles, sounding guilty. "Or did, last night at least. That's literally what an erection means."

Louis goes to defend himself, and then stops. Harry's right. Biology, or whatever. "I was probably just having a dream."

"Do you remember what it was about?"

Louis shakes his head. "No. I don't even know if it was a dream for sure, I'm only guessing."

"When you, um." Harry looks at him, eyes sharp with intensity. "When you have those dreams, or those thoughts, are they about me or Nick?"'

The question makes Louis flinch backwards. He doesn't know what to say, what the right answer is. He fears if he says they're about Harry, it'll make Harry scared. But if he says they're about Nick, that wouldn't go down any better, for obvious reasons. He grapples for an answer before lamely claiming, "I haven't really had any thoughts like that."

Harry scoffs immediately. Not meanly, but harsh enough for Louis to know that he knows that Louis' lying. "You're seriously trying to tell me you don't ever even jerk off?"

"Don't say that," Louis says immediately, without thinking about it. "I don't like hearing you talk like that."

"Sorry. But answer my question."

Louis shakes his head at him, standing up. "We're supposed to be talking about last night, about how it made you feel, not about what or who I think about while I masturbate."

Harry doesn't back down. His stubbornness has strengthened as the rest of him has. "Is it me? Do you think about me?"

"Harry."

"No, tell me. Why won't you just say it? What, are you afraid that -- "

"Don't -- "

" -- that I'm going to freak out that my boyfriend finds me attractive, just because I've been assaulted?"

Louis takes a step back, anger rattling his bones. "Stop doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Confusing the fuck out of me," Louis snaps. "One second, you’re crying because I got a fucking hard-on in my sleep and it confused you, and the next you're interrogating me about my, like, sexual fantasies."

Harry makes a face at him. "I have a lot of feelings."

Louis snorts. 

"Don't be an asshole," Harry grumbles, rolling his eyes. "I just want to know."

"Why?"

"Because maybe I like the idea that you find me attractive enough to want to do that with me still, even if I'm not ready for it," Harry hisses, glaring at him. "Maybe I want to hear that you think I'm still desirable and not disgusted or, like, used up"

"Fucking hell, Harry," Louis whispers. He rubs his hands over his face and sighs. "I hate it when you talk badly about yourself."

Harry doesn't say anything, just keeps staring at him. 

After a long silence, Louis sighs. "Fine. Maybe I think about you sometimes. But not, like. Not like about what I want to do, but about what we used to do. To each other."

Harry frowns. "What do you mean?"

"It doesn't feel right fantasizing about you when your relationship with intimacy is so complicated."

Harry looks down at his lap. "So you. . . you don't like this version of me? You only like what I used to be like?"

"No, God." Louis groans quietly and sits back down, closer to Harry this time. He hates having this conversation, and he doesn't exactly understand why they're even having it, but for whatever reason, Harry needs to hear this. "I do, like. . . think about you. All the time. Well, not all the time, but -- "

"Stop editing your word choices around me and just say it."

"Okay." Louis takes a deep breath. "I think about you sometimes, when I'm, um, getting off. But thinking about the you who's been through everything that you've been through makes me feel wrong, because I'm not sure if you'd like me thinking that way about you anymore. So I think about, like. . . how we used to be together. About what we used to do. About our times together that I remember most, like -- like that time you blew me in the bathroom of Liam's old apartment. Stuff like that. Not because I don't want to think that way about how you look now, just because I don't think I have the permission to."

Harry smiles a little as he shakes his head and drags his fingers through his hair. "That bathroom was small, fuck."

Louis smiles too. "Yeah, I remember." 

(He tries to pretend that this is normal for them, that they often joke around about their old sex adventures. It's very abnormal though, so abnormal he can't pretend for shit. Harry from a few months ago was in this dark, shadowy place, and Harry in a few more months will probably be standing in the light, with maybe a foot in the darkness still. This Harry, though, is by far the most confusing. He's standing straight in the middle, half of him covered in dark, the other half glowing in the light. It keeps Louis on his toes, at least.)

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Harry decides carefully. The smile's gone from his face and he's no longer looking at Louis, but he doesn't seem too upset anymore. Louis set the record straight, again, and he'll keep doing it until it sticks. 

"Okay. We don't have to."

"But, um." Harry winces as he looks at Louis; he looks guilty. "Can I sleep in my room? Just for tonight? I don't think -- like, I'm not scared of you. I trust you still, and everything. I just think I'd be more comfortable in my room for the night."

"That's fine," Louis says, because it is, even if it hurts. "And you don't have to ask me for permission. Do whatever you want, this is your apartment too now."

Harry grins at him, shy at first and then beaming, and leans over to plant a chaste kiss on Louis' lips. God, this man is so confusing, but that doesn't mean Louis' cheeks don't warm and that his lips don't tingle with the desire for more. 

Before Harry goes to bed that night, he stops by Louis' doorway after grabbing his things. He turns around, looking shy yet determined. "You have, like. Um. My permission."

Louis furrows his eyebrows, confused. "For what, H?"

"To, uh. To think about me. Like, this version of me. Um. . . like, sexually. You can. I don't mind."

Louis has to take a second and figure out which side of Harry is saying this. He could be trying to please Louis in a twisted way that he's uncomfortable with, or he could be being genuine. By the small smile and the way he bashfully looks down at feet, Louis' pretty sure it's the latter. 

"Okay," Louis agrees quietly, his throat suddenly dry. "Thanks, I guess."

He nods. "Good night, Lou."

"Night, H."

Harry calls Penny and, once she comes, he goes, Penny following behind him. 

Again: fucking hell, is Harry confusing. Louis doesn't know what's going through his head anymore. And when he wakes up the next morning to Harry's face pressed against his stomach, one hand holding onto his wrist, Louis knows that Harry doesn't really know anymore, either. And maybe that should be unsettling, but for Louis, it feels nice knowing that he's not the only once unsure of what the next day brings. 

"And of course they brought -- " she pauses, glancing at the tin of dessert in Harry's slightly-shaking-but-nobody's-going-to-acknowledge-it-for-his-sake hands. "Banana bread?" she asks, unsure. 

"Apple pie bread," Harry corrects, biting at his smile. 

"It sounds weird, and it looks kinda off, but it's amazing, promise," Louis grins. He touches his hand to the small of Harry's back and gently nudges him forward, and then they go in the house, his mom chatting away as they do. 

"Phoebe and Daisy are at some school thing," she tells them, waving her hand around as they walk into the kitchen. "A powder-puff cheer event or something like that, I don't even know. Dan's working late, and Fizzy's out with. . . somebody, not sure, and Lottie is at her own apartment for once, so it's just us three and the babies."

Louis quirks an eyebrow at her. "Ernie and Dories aren't babies anymore, Mom."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Of course they are. You all are all my babies still."

"He's almost thirty," Harry says, grinning like mad because he knows it's going to get underneath Louis' skin. "That's, like, a pretty big man child."

Jay laughs, loud and bright. "Oh, I love you. Not that you're back, you can work on humbling him a little bit. He needs it."

"What is even happening right now?" Louis asks, although he's laughing too. Harry presses his weight into Louis' side, his smile softening but not fading. 

His smile doesn't fade the entire night. He's not exactly being chatty, but he's definitely pitching into the conversation more than usual. He's laughing and happy and the only time it ever really dims is when Jay mentions Nick's money in a poor-taste joke that Louis should've waited to get married, refused to sign a prenup and  _ then  _ get divorced. It's not the mention of Nick that gets under Harry's skin, it's the way that it reminds him that he's not wealthy, probably doesn't have more than a few thousand dollars to his name, and that he can't take care of Louis financially the way Nick could. He doesn't dwell on it though; Louis can physically see him slip the comment under the rug in his mind and try to remain in a good mood. It also helps that Doris throws her toy at Louis' head a moment after the joke. 

Harry's sleepy and happy and touchy when they get home. Louis has to hassle him into brushing his teeth and changing into pajamas (although, no matter how tired Harry is, he's not tired enough to not go to the bathroom to change). Once Harry gets into bed, teeth brushed and wearing one of Louis' sweaters, he kisses Louis. Once, twice, three times, and then it's turns a little less sweet and a little more hungry. When Harry shifts even closer to him and deepens the kiss further, Louis stops him gently. 

Harry looks confused. Louis presses a kiss to his cheekbone. 

"You're tired, baby," he says, taking Harry's hands in his own. "And you're in a really good mood, which is amazing, but -- "

"But you think it'd be taking advantage," Harry finishes. Louis hesitantly nods, but surprisingly, Harry nods back. "Okay," he whispers, no longer looking upset. "I get that. I mean, you wouldn't be, but okay." He curls into Louis' side easily. Moose gets up from the bottom of the bed and lays behind Harry's curled legs, snuggling into him. Louis can feel Harry's smile against his chest. 

As he drifts off to sleep, Louis has a stern-talk with his brain that there are no surprise boners allowed tonight, even after the kissing. It's a boner-free zone, he thinks stupidly and lazily. It's the last semi-coherent thought he has before sleeping pulls him under. 

"I think I want to go back to college," Harry says, one morning while they're eating breakfast. It's late for Louis, already nine o'clock and they only got up fifteen minutes ago. 

Louis wipes the side off the syrup sticking to the side of his mouth with a napkin. "Harry," he says slowly, holding his fork tightly. "I'll support you with everything, but I don't think going to college right now is the best idea."

"Oh, God, not  _ now _ ," Harry laughs. He sounds nervous and happy all at once. "Like, in a while. A few years, at least. Like. . . I know I've gotten better, but there's no way I could handle that stress right now."

"Oh." It sounds like Harry's given some serious thought to this. 

Harry looks shy. He sets his fork down and folds his hands on the table. "And, like. I don't think I could do both English and business again. I'd have to pick one. And my business degree was always easier than my English one, so, like. I'd probably to business. And besides, I don't have the attention span to read a book in three days and then write a paper about it like I had to do for English."

_ But you liked English so much better _ , Louis wants to say, and it's the truth. Harry likes to write, to write essays, and he was always good at it. But Harry's being rationale about this, being able to pick out what he could and could not handle. He's being -- and fuck, Louis thought he'd never be able to say this again -- mature and responsible over his own well-being. Louis' not going to interfere with that. 

"And I'd do online school, of course," Harry adds.

Louis nods, agreeing. He can't imagine Harry wandering around a huge college campus by himself. "And I could always help you. Or, like, try to, anyway. I don't even know what the fuck you learn in business."

Harry shrugs and goes back to eating. "Business-y stuff," he replies helpfully, mouth full. 

Louis snorts and shakes his head at him. 

At three-fourteen in the morning, he wakes up to crying. 

It's only small, hiccup-y cries, not full-blown ones. Louis knows Harry, knows his cries, and he knows that he's most likely already gotten the big sobs out of the way. The way he's crying is how he usually does when he's coming down, and Louis' unsure how he didn't wake up sooner, but that doesn't matter right now. 

"Hazza, love," he mumbles, barely awake. Moose is laying in-between his legs and he's too tired to move right now, so he watches Harry turn his head to look at him from a distance. It's dark in here, aside from a slight light from the window. All Louis can make out right now is the curve of his nose. 

Harry sniffles. "'M sorry. Go back to sleep, I'm alright."

"Harry -- "

"Babe," Harry interrupts, shaking his head. Louis' stomach flips stupidly; Harry hasn't been one to usually one for calling Louis anything other than his name since he's been back. "It was just a dream. I'm fine."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Harry shifts around so he's laying back in bed, pulls the blankets up to his chin. "It's late," he whispers, and it's not a no, so Louis knows it's a yes. 

"C'mere, if you want." Louis motions for Harry to move closer, and Harry does. He worms his way over to Louis before finally settling into his side. His leg comes to hook over Louis', and Louis can feel his ankle move when he starts to pet Moose with his toes. "What was it about?"

Harry's quiet for a long time. Louis listens to Moose's loud snores and the sound of Ellie cleaning Penny on the floor next to their bed. Finally, when Louis' eyes are threatening to close for good, Harry begins talking. 

"It was kind of different from normal, like." He clears his throat and burrows deeper into Louis' side. "I was here, and it -- it didn't feel like I was dreaming. I was just sitting on the couch watching TV, and then these, um, people broke into the apartment and, like -- I was scared, you know, and I tried to run, but they held me down and they injected me with heroin, and it hurt, so bad, I don't really know why. But I was high as fuck and in pain and then they left, and then you came home, and you -- you got mad at me, 'cause you thought I went out and shot up, and I was trying to tell you that -- tell you what happened, and you just wouldn't listen and kept yelling at me." 

Once he's finished with explaining, he takes a deep breath and says, "And I know that you wouldn't yell at me, okay? I know you wouldn't blame me. I don't know why that happened, 'cause I know it wouldn't happen in real life."

"Good," Louis says immediately, because that was going to be the first thing he touched on. "Because I wouldn't yell at you like that."

"I know, and -- " Harry yawns loudly. "And I kind of wanted to talk about the rest of it, 'cause, like, I have some thoughts about it, but I'm really fucking tired."

"Sleep, then. We can talk about it more tomorrow."

Harry nods against his chest, and it takes only two minutes for him to fall asleep. As soon as Louis' sure Harry's asleep, he immediately falls asleep too. 

Three days later, Harry has therapy. Louis' thankful, because for some reason the dream was really nagging at Harry, and Louis could only help so much. They talked about it, they did, but Harry's nervous that his dreams will get worse. Normally, he only has nightmares about things that already happened, or things really close to reality. He's scared that his brain is going to start creating new, fucked-up shit to traumatize him with in his sleep. Louis' pretty sure that it's not going to be like that -- he hasn't had another bad dream since then -- but he knows that Harry's worries won't be soothed until Kelly discusses it with him. 

When Harry gets home from therapy around five-thirty, Louis is stretched across the couch, still in his work clothes. 

"Hey, love," Louis says, and Harry immediately comes over and climbs into his lap like an overgrown child and wraps his arms around him. At first, Louis thinks he's upset. Then, Harry laughs softly into his neck, and Louis knows that he's just feeling clingy. 

"What'd you talk about today?" Louis asks, his hands resting against Harry's hips. Since Louis' laying down, it's almost like Harry's straddling him, which is going to make Harry feel incredibly awkward when he realizes it, so Louis pushes himself up to a sitting position. Harry pouts, and then gets comfy on his lap again.

"She wants me to try and go to a place with a drive-thru line," he says, sounding almost eager.

Louis snorts and furrows his eyebrows at him. That's definitely not what he expected. "Um, alright. Why, exactly? To, like, help you get used to going to unfamiliar places?"

Harry nods. "I told her that I don't think I'm going to have a problem with it -- I'll just be in the car with you, I'll be fine -- but she wants me to do it anyway. A few times, at least. But after a few weeks, she wants me to try going inside. And then a few weeks -- could take months, she said, since I don't like talking to strangers -- she wants me to order for myself."

Louis nods slowly. That sounds like a good plan, and Louis' glad that Harry's connected with her so well, but he braced himself for an uncomfortable conversation about what his dream could've meant and for Harry to be scared, and Louis' thought it so many times he's sick of hearing himself think it, but it's so difficult to expect things for Harry anymore.

"That sounds good, baby," Louis says eventually, giving Harry a soft smile. "I'm proud of you."

That never, ever fails to make Harry look bashful and squirm. "Thank you," he mumbles, ducking his head. "She, um. She always gave me a new book to read, since we finished the last one.  _ Tale of Two Cities _ ."

Louis grimaces. "I read that book in high school and it was  _ awful _ ."

"Heyy. I read that book in high school and it was  _ amazing _ ." He pauses, and his pout slowly fades away. "Okay, not amazing. But, like. Interesting."

"The ending was stupid."

"The ending showed true love and sacrifice," Harry argues, and fuck, a little under a year ago they were arguing about Louis being engaged to another man. This last year and some odd number of months has been so fucking crazy. 

"Maybe I'll like it better this time around," Louis says, only to please Harry. It works, if the smile on his face is anything to go by. 

An hour later, they're curled up together on the couch. Louis' reading  _ Tale of Two Cities _ to Harry, who looks content with his head on Louis' shoulder. Louis' bored out of his mind. So when his phone vibrates in his pocket, he stops mid-sentence and grabs it. 

"You're mean," Harry huffs, though he doesn't sound angry. Louis pats at his knee apologetically, and he opens the new message from Niall. 

_ Hiii buddie . I want you and harry over soon . I was going to text Haz and invite you 2 thru him but I figured texting you was the safer bet. When are you two freeee? _

As he's texting Niall back some times that'll work, another text comes through. It's a text from Nick. And it's insane that seeing that used to make him so happy, because now, it makes his heart drop. 

_ Hi. Hope you're well. Can I have Els and Moose for a week or two soon? Sorry it's been so long. Been busy. _

"Nick wants the pets soon," Louis mumbles to Harry, feeling agitated. For no real reason, really. Nick is one-hundred percent allowed to ask for either of them whenever he wants -- they're half his, and Louis' not a fucking monster -- , but he's pretty sure that it's principle to be annoyed by your ex. Or maybe he's just a little immature. 

"Penny is gonna miss them," Harry says quietly. "She loves Ellie. That's her big sister."

"It won't be for long," Louis promises, squeezing Harry's knee. "Besides, she lived without them for most of her life."

Harry makes a noise. "He can't just pop in whenever he wants and expect you to drop everything for him. That's stupid."

A part of Louis wants to agree, say yes, Haz, that is stupid and move on. But another part of him, a larger part, knows that he owes Nick a lot more than that, and not just because of how Louis ended things. Nick's a good person. Nick loved Louis wholeheartedly. He deserves some respect, some sympathy. 

Louis looks down at Harry, who's fiddling with the front of his shirt. "He lives in a nineteen-hundred square foot house all by himself. He doesn't have anyone, you know? I mean, I have Ellie, and Moose, and Penny, and you. I have you. He doesn't have any of that. He's probably lonely, H."

"I know," Harry replies easily. "'M not actually mad. It's just -- he's your ex-fiancé. It's, like, a knee-jerk reaction to criticize everything he does."

Louis barks out a laugh and shakes his head. "You're terrible," he says, still laughing. Harry shoves at him and whines.

"Text him back and keep reading," he demands. Louis does as he's told, happiness radiating in his stomach. 

The next night, they decide to try the whole drive-thru situation. 

"Are you sure you're feeling alright? Not nervous at all?" Louis asks for the twentieth time. He's nervously jingling his keys around in his hands, trying to find any trace of apprehension in Harry's face. There is none; Harry just looks annoyed. 

"I've been  _ inside  _ Wendy's before. I've gone to a brand new, scary place, being my therapist's office, and I made it out alive. I'm pretty sure I can handle staying inside of a car while we order food."

Louis nods too many times. "Right. You're right. Sorry."

Harry furrows his eyebrows and crosses his arms. "You don't seem to have any confidence in me right now." He sounds hurt. 

"That's not it at all," Louis says immediately, reaching forward to grab Harry's hand and tug it. "I'm sorry. I believe in you, I do. More than anything in the world, like. In the beginning, after a few months, I was so scared you weren't going to ever get better, and then -- it took a while, it did, but you've made it pretty fucking far, babe. You moved in here with barely any problems." He takes a deep breath and laughs, not having meant to get that sappy. "I'm just saying, I believe in you. With all my heart. But sometimes, I get a little nervous I'm pushing you too far."

Harry snorts quietly, but he's smiling happily. "And I love you for that, but can we please go get Taco Bell? I'm starving."

When they get home a half hour later, Harry munching contently at a Cinnabon Delight, and he was absolutely right: it was fine. Harry was fine. He was humming along to Katy Perry and gazing out the window as Louis ordered their food. Louis feels insanely stupid for being so nervous, although he reminds himself that it's better to be cautious than stupid. Like dragging Harry into a Wendy's on Christmas Eve without his permission. 

God, he still can't believe he did that. The drinks at his mom's house must've been spiked or something.

"I want my mom to come over soon," Harry says randomly. He's digging around in the bag, concentrating too hard on something as trivial as tacos. "I haven't seen her in too long. Robin, too. We, like, still talk all the time, but I miss her. Miss them both."

Louis nods. "Okay, that's fine. Obviously. Gemma could come too, if you wanted."

"No," Harry says, shaking his head. He pulls out a taco from the bag and sets in on his plate. "She's just going to talk about the wedding and it's going to stress me out because I still don't know how or if I could be able to go."

"They still haven't picked a date," Louis reminds gently, "and nobody is pressuring you to go."

Harry looks up at him sharply. "My big sister is getting married, that's the kind of thing you attend."

Louis holds up his hands in surrender, backing away slowly. It makes Harry laugh and throw a straw at him, which Moose immediately jumps at it before it can even hit the ground and runs away with.

Louis raises his eyebrows at Harry. "You're getting that from him."

"That's not fair, I -- "

"Go," Louis demands sternly, and Harry sighs dramatically. When he rushes past Louis and curses at Moose, Louis grins fondly, even though he knows he probably shouldn't be smiling because there's a fifty-percent possibility that Moose has already eaten have the straw by now. 

That night in bed, they kiss a little. A little more than a little. Harry's half-hovering over him with his upper body, his hand resting against Louis' jaw. This has become a normal occurrence, always initiated by Harry. What's not normal, though, is Harry taking his hand off Louis' face and resting it against his lower rib cage, his fingers splaying downwards. Louis tenses slightly before relaxing, because it's still innocent enough right now. 

But then Harry's hand slides down ever-so-slightly more, so the tip of his pinky is now touching the top of Louis' sweats. 

He pulls back, his lips tingly and his heart racing. "You're hand's getting a little low there," he says breathlessly. Immediately, Harry pulls his hand off, his face turning a dark shade of red. He sits back, looking scared, and twists his hands together. 

"I didn't mean -- that. Like. I'm not ready for that."

"That's fine, love," Louis promises softly. "I know you aren't. That's why I pointed it out."

Harry's face turns redder, if that's even possible. "I -- I want to go, um, a little further, but not -- God, not that, nothing like that, just, like -- I thought maybe a little more, I don't know, now I feel, like, weird, I'm sorry. I'm -- fuck. Shit. I feel stupid."

Louis reaches forward to grip Harry's knee tightly. "Don't feel like that. Seriously. This isn't something you have to feel awkward about. But, like, if you wanted to go a little further, it'd probably be in both of our best interests for you to talk to me about it first."'

Harry pouts, ducking his head. "Talking's gross."

Louis laughs quietly. "I know, babe, but it's important. So we can establish boundaries and all that."

"You're right," Harry agrees, sighing loudly. He lays back on the bed, and judging by the way he pulls the covers over him, not only is he not in the mood for any more kisses, he's also feeling incredibly exposed. 

Louis hesitates. "Can I -- are you comfortable being in bed right now?"

"God, yes," Harry says instantly. He reaches over to tug at Louis' elbow. "Come on. Lay down. Cuddle me. Or, actually, it's kind of fucking hot in here, so maybe just lay close and hold my hand."

Louis laughs. "Lemme go turn the AC on then." He gets out of bed before Harry can tell him not to and quickly turns on the air. He passes Penny, who's oddly laying on the couch instead of with them, and scoops her up on his way back. 

"I brought a friend," Louis says when he gets back into their room. He hands her to Harry, and Harry starts to coo. 

"Oh, my poor baby was probably too hot to come lay with her dads." He pets at her head, and Louis rolls his eyes fondly at them. He lays down next to them, getting as comfortable as he can manage with Ellie being sprawled across the middle of the bed. 

Harry continues to pet at Penny while Louis sets his alarms and sets his phone on the nightstand and shuts his eyes. He's half asleep when Harry clears his throat. 

Very quietly, he whispers, "I don't think I'm ever going to be able to blow you again." He clears his throat again after his voice wobbles on the last word. "It's, like. Like really triggering for me, or whatever."

"Okay," Louis says immediately. He finds Harry's hand in the blankets and grabs, squeezes. "That's fine. That's one-hundred percent, totally okay. Thank you for letting me know."

Harry sighs quietly, sounding relieved. He scooches himself down on the bed so he's eye-level with Louis. He puts Penny between them, and they fall asleep with their clasped hands laying on her tummy.

Being shirtless in front of Harry again feels wrong. 

After a few months of having to remind himself that, since Harry lives with him now, he can't go to sleep naked or stumble to the kitchen in his boxers in the early hours of the morning. That'd make Harry uncomfortable, Louis knows it would, so he doesn't. But then there's tonight, where Harry tugged on the hem of shirt and broke their kiss to ask him to take it off. Louis had hesitated, and Harry had pleaded. 

"Wanna feel you," he whispered, his lips red from how long they've been kissing. He rests his forehead against Louis'. "I'm asking you to, I'm not feeling pressured, I'm okay, and this is as far as I want it to go right now," Harry said, like he was reading off a checklist. He's probably so tired of Louis constantly checking in and making sure. 

Louis had agreed, and with fumbling fingers, pulled his shirt off over his head. Harry didn't even look at his body, just closed his eyes and leaned back in for more kissing. At first, Louis thinks that Harry's just going to ignore him being shirtless, but after a moment, Harry's warm hand comes up to rest against Louis' rib cage, his thumb only a few centimeters away from Louis' nipple. 

He tenses, and a shiver spreads across his whole body. He can't tell if it's a negative or positive reaction until Harry moves his hand to the side slightly, and a warmth spreads from where he's touching. Louis smiles into the kiss, can't help it, because fuck, he loves Harry so fucking much. 

Harry smiles back, and now the kiss is kind of ruined so they both pull away but neither of them care much. There's more time for kissing later. They're at a place right now that kissing is always on the agenda. 

"You have goosebumps," Harry whispers to him, before he ducks down to nose at Louis' cheek. Louis turns his head to give Harry more room on instinct. Harry presses a kiss to the corner of Louis' jaw. One kiss, and then two, and then three, and then Harry pulls off for good. 

He lays down next to him, sighing happily. Louis wonders pessimistically if that happiness would still be there if he knew that Louis was half-hard in his pants.

"We still doing dinner with my mom tomorrow?" Harry asks quietly. He lifts his hand off the bed and sets it on Louis' tummy, earning a small jolt from him. Harry laughs quietly and starts playing with the small trail of hair under Louis' belly button. Louis' bottom half is covered with a blanket, and he's glad because he can feel himself stiffen a little more. 

"Yeah. At six. I texted her the time already."

Harry hums. "Okay. And have you decided what we're eating for dinner yet?"

Louis shakes his head. "Haven't even thought about it, if I'm honest. Thought we could just grab some takeout or something."

"Noo. I wanna make something nice for her."

"Like?"

Harry thinks for a few seconds before saying, "Cookies."

Louis laughs. "For dinner?"

"Well, obviously not for dinner," Harry mumbles, rolling his eyes. "Hmm. Maybe we can make lasagna."

"Okay," Louis agrees, after he's finished trying to mentally see if they have all the ingredients for that. They do. "Go get it started, then."

Harry cheers softly before getting out of bed and leaving the room. Louis lays in bed for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling as he waits for his boner to go down. Once it does, he pulls his shirt back over his head and joins Harry in the kitchen. 

At 12:04 pm the next day, Louis' at work, and as soon as his phone lights up with a phone call from Harry, he knows something's wrong. 

It's like deja vu, reminding Louis of the last time Harry called him at work. And that hadn't necessarily been terrible. For him, anyway. The case closing was a punch in the gut for Harry, dragging him back down memory lane, but it had given Louis a giant sigh of relief. So maybe his first instinct that something is wrong is unfair, especially after what Harry had said the other day about Louis not having much faith in him. 

He makes sure his boss is still in her office (she is) and ducks his head the other way before answering call. As soon as Harry's voice comes through, he knows his first instinct was right. 

He's not crying, and he's not a wreck, but he sounds scared, and that's enough for Louis to be scared too. 

"Hi, Lou, um," Harry pauses, and a sighing breath comes through the phone. His voice has an edge to it, sounds like it used to when he was getting worked up over something small. "Can you -- I know you're at work right now, but could you maybe come home? Maybe just for a little while?"

Louis' heart squeezes in worry. "I can try. Probably can, I just have to make sure. But what's wrong? Are you alright?"

Another shaky breath comes from Harry. "I don't -- yes. I'm fine. I'll be fine. I just -- I think I'm going to have a panic attack, and I'm trying to do all, like, the things Kelly told me to do, but nothing's working, and I. . . I really don't wanna go through it alone. I haven't had one in so long, and I feel like it's going to be bad, and I," he sighs, cutting himself off. "I don't wanna be alone right now."

Louis stands from his desk and nods. "Okay," he says. "Okay. How bad is it right now?" He crosses the room to Melissa's office. Her door isn't open, but he doesn't exactly care if he's interrupting something right now. 

"I'm just laying in bed right now. My head hurts, and my chest feels tight, but I haven't, like, started hyperventilating yet. I think it's more of an anxiety attack than a panic attack right now. I might not even have one, I don't know, I'm just. Scared."

"Okay," Louis says, when he gets to Melissa's door. "I'm gonna talk to my boss really quickly, alright? I'll text you what she says."

"Okay, Lou. Thank you. Bye."

He hangs up, and Louis pushes the door open. 

As soon as he asks to go home early, Melissa lets out a long, disappointed sigh. 

"I only have four hours of my shift left," he defends lamely. He's grasping at straws, but he needs to be there for Harry.

She leans forward, her elbows planted on the desk. She looks tired. "Four hours is a long time, Louis."

"It's a family emergency."

"You seem to have a lot of family emergencies." She sighs again and leans back in her chair, shaking her head at him. "Last year, you abruptly took a few weeks off of work for one of your 'family emergencies', and I allowed it because you hadn't done anything like that before. But ever since, you haven't been as committed to this job as you before. You call off randomly, and without warning -- the other day you took off, what? Two weeks of work off, out of the blue?"

Louis tries not to show her how nervous he is. "Yes, I know, I'm sorry. Genuinely. There's just a lot going on -- "

"There's a lot going on here too," she interrupts, her voice clipped. "Our job here is to help helpless children out of horrific situations, and every single member of our team is vital in making that happen. If you aren't committed to your position, to these children, you need to tell me now."

Louis stammers for a few seconds, unable to come up with a coherent response. Finally, he settles on, "I am, Melissa. I am. I know my job's important, okay, and I know that me being flaky is unprofessional and rude and just -- I know, okay? And I'm sorry.”

She doesn't look convinced, and Louis decides to just tell her the truth.

"Do you remember the -- the bust last year, in California, where the police found and rescued a bunch of victims of a sex-trafficking ring?" He bites down on his lip, hard, as she answers. Speaking Harry's truth on behalf of him doesn't feel right, but Louis wants to get home to help him and also keep his job if he could. He's pretty sure Harry won't be too bothered by it, so long as he doesn't disclose anything too specific. 

She nods, seemingly confused. "Vaguely. There was a Twitter moment about it, I'm pretty sure."

"Right." He wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans, taking a deep breath. "Well, like. My boyfriend was involved in that, and, um -- the reason I was gone for so long the first time was because I was at the hospital with him. And then every time afterward, it was because he needed me to be there with him. I took the time off I did recently because he wasn't doing very well and I was worried he was going to hurt himself. And every other time was because he was upset, and he wanted me, and I -- I went a really long time without him, and I'll spare you the bullshit, but I need to be there for him when he needs me to be."

Melissa looks sympathetic, but Louis can tell he's not off the hook all the way yet. 

"He's at home right now having a panic attack," he tells her, getting more desperate. She can probably hear it in his voice. "I know how bad this reflects on me, and I understand why you are upset with me, but please. Please understand. I'm responsible for him. I need to get home."

She closes her eyes and wipes at her forehead with the back of her hand. She sighs loudly and shakes her head, looking irritated. "You can go today, but this is strike one, you hear me? Two more times, and you're out. I mean it," she says sternly.

Louis nods profusely. It's not best-case scenario, but it's good enough. "Okay. Okay. I can work with that. Thank you."

She nods and grabs a pen off her desk. She uncaps it, puts the cap on the other side, and then looks at him. "I'm sympathetic to your situation, I am. I'm deeply sorry that that has affected your loved ones. That's the only reason I'm giving you two more chances."

Louis nods and thanks her again before leaving her office quickly. Once he's in his car, he opens the messaging app and texts Harry.  _ on my home love xx try not to be too scared baby. _

Thankfully, Harry is pretty much in the same condition as he was on the phone. Shaky and scared, but mostly alright. He hadn't gone into hysterics after he got off with Louis, which is what Louis feared most. 

Him, Louis and Ellie are cuddling on the couch together, because Penny won't lay with him right now and Ellie's a close second choice. She doesn't exactly like to cuddle in the way that Harry has her right not, hugged tightly to his chest, but she lays with him anyway. She must sense he's upset.

After fifteen minutes pass, Louis hooks his chin over Harry's shoulder and squeezes Harry's middle gently. "Are you feeling any better yet?"

Harry shakes his head. "I'm nauseous and my chest still feels tight."

Louis frowns, strokes his hair back. It's getting long again. "Are you sure, like -- like, this is going to sound stupid, but are you sure it's not a heart attack or something else?"

Harry snorts. "If it was a heart attack, I'd be dead by now." He leans down to press a kiss to Ellie's head, who flicks her tail in response. Patience isn't usually her forte. "You know how, like, when you realize you forgot something important, or you're about to do a big presentation or something, and it feels like your heart swoops down to your stomach and you go hot all over?"

Louis nods slowly. Harry sighs. 

"It feels like that," he whispers. "And it's felt like that all morning, and I wish it would just stop. If I'm going to have a panic attack,  _ fine _ . I'll have one. I wish this wasn't so drawn-out."

Louis hums and presses a kiss to the side of Harry's cheek. "Hopefully we can avoid the panic attack all together, but I understand what you mean." 

Ellie stands, and Louis tenses and so does Harry. Harry needs a furry friend right now, and as much as Moose would be willing to take her spot, Harry is soothed better by the cats. She lays back down, though, and they both relax. 

"Did anything happen?" Louis asks. "Like, to trigger all of this?"

Harry's quiet for a minute before nodding. Before Louis can ask what, Harry tells him. "I had a bad dream this morning. It wasn't really a nightmare, and it wasn't terrible. It was just a bad dream. But when I woke up, like. If I was home, I would've crawled into bed with my mom. And if you were home, I would've made you cuddle me. But, like. I was all alone. I don't know. It just, like, knocked the wind out of me." He touches one of Louis' hands that is pressed to his stomach. "I know you have to work. I know you can't be here with me all the time. Don't feel bad for that, please."

God, that pisses Louis off for some reason. Harry has grown so much and has come so far, far enough that he's in a position where he can communicate clearly what he's feeling and what he wants others around him to do about it, yet his past still has two claws dug deep into his back, relentless. Louis' worried he'll never be truly free.

They spend most of the afternoon cuddling on the couch relaxing. They watch TV, and Louis reads to him a little, and he watches Louis play with Moose with Ellie cuddled to his chest. At one point, Harry insists that he's going to puke, so they relocate to the bathroom and give Ellie a break. Louis holds him to his chest in front of the toilet, murmuring quietly into his ear. He doesn't throw up, thankfully, and they have a decently nice dinner. It's almost like Harry's not in control of his body, and he's doing and saying things because he knows he should be doing and saying them, and not because he wants to. 

Louis' texting Anne about their rain-check for tomorrow. Louis and Harry ate the lasagna tonight, and he'll have to make something for the three of them to eat at dinner tomorrow night, but he's not really worried about. He can make chili or something. Harry feels beyond guilty, so he goes in the shower to try and clear his mind.

Louis' mid text ( _ he's still out of it, in the shower now, I think. . . _ ) when he hears the water turn off suddenly. He frowns, confused. Harry's only been in there for two minutes. Immediately, he stands and walks to the bathroom to check on him. 

He's a foot away from the door when he hears a cry, and his stomach immediately plummets. Kind of like what Harry was talking about earlier. 

He rushes forward and knocks on the door once. "Haz? You alright?" But he's not, Louis can hear that he's not. He can hear loud sobs and short, choppy breaths. Harry's having a panic attack, the first one in a long time, and Louis' on the other side of a locked door. 

He knocks again. "Harry, babe. Can you open the door please?"

He cries loudly. "Can't."

"Why can't you?"

Another loud cry followed by labored breaths. Louis winces. "Don't want you -- I'm naked, I'm -- just need to get -- get dressed, hold on, I -- "

"Love, can you please just open the door? I won't look, I promise, I just want -- "

" _ No, _ " Harry cries. A second later, Louis can hear him grumble something about not being able to get his pants on. Louis wants to tell him again to open the goddamn door, that he won't care about what he sees, but he stops himself because he knows that's selfish. Harry's always in pants and a t-shirt, and Louis' not going to pressure him into showing more than that. 

Still, when two minutes pass and all he can hear is panting and crying, he can't take it anymore. 

"Harry, fucking please, open the door. Let me take care of you."

Harry sobs. "I can't get -- get my shirt on, I -- "

"It's okay," Louis stresses, clenching his eyes shut. "God, love, it's okay. I've seen you shirtless countless times. I won't judge you, okay? I won't even look. I just really want to see you right now."

He's ninety-nine percent sure that Harry's not going to listen, so he's stunned and so fucking proud when the door opens and Harry comes barreling into his arms. Louis holds him tightly as a wet, shaking Harry cries into his neck. It feels wrong touching Harry's bare skin, especially when he knows Harry's' not comfortable with it, but he doesn't focus on that because he promised Harry he wouldn't. 

"Deep breaths, baby," Louis whispers, kind of unhelpfully. He strokes his hand up and down Harry's back, holding him tightly with his other arm. "Don't think about it. Just breathe, love."

"I'm fine, it's fine, just let me -- I need to -- " he stops himself, and Louis winces as Harry's nails dig into his skin. He doesn't say anything, doesn't ask him to stop, and he keeps petting at Harry's back. His fingers accidentally brush over the scars on Harry's hip, and he quickly moves away from them before Harry notices. 

It only takes a couple of minutes for Harry to calm down, which is good for him. Sometimes, it used to take up to twenty minutes for him to relax. So even though Harry had a panic attack out of the blue after months of not having one, it doesn't necessarily mean anything more than a bad day. Harry was able to come out of it quickly; that's what is most important to Louis. 

Afterwards, Harry is a lot calmer than he was before. He's shaky, not out of fear, but from the aftershocks of a panic attack. He seems more like himself, just a watered-down, tired version. He lets Louis hold him, makes a few half-hearted jokes here and there, laughs brightly when Louis trips over Moose. When they get situated in bed for the night, Harry even wants to kiss a little. And they do, but only for a short time period. Harry's tired, mentally and physically, and he's not in the mood to fight off sleep. 

He lays his head against Louis' chest, his hand underneath Louis' shirt, resting against his belly. It feels nice. 

"You're taking Moose and Ellie to Nick's tomorrow after work, right?" Harry asks, voice muffled by Louis' shirt. 

Louis nods, ignoring the twinge of heartache in his chest. He doesn't like giving them up, even if it's to Nick. "Yeah. For a week."

"And my mom's coming at six tomorrow?"

"Six-thirty, but yes."

Harry hums, and then falls silent.

Maybe it's from how chaotic his day was, but Louis can't turn his brain off, so he lays there in bed, stroking Harry's hair softly. He listens to Moose's snores and watches Ellie's chest move up and down slowly. Penny's not in bed with them -- she'll probably come in soon -- and Louis focuses on them instead of Harry or work or Nick or anything else. 

A few minutes of silence pass before Harry sighs quietly. "Sometimes, like." His thumb brushes over his navel as he pauses to collect his thoughts. "Sometimes I think you're too good to me, or that I ask for too much. And I do, like. I ask a lot of you, and I know that's sort of unfair, but, like. I just think I deserve it, you know? I spent a long time with a lot of people who were never kind to me or cared about me, so, like -- I don't know, really. I don't know where I was going with this."

Louis doesn't know where it came from, or what lead Harry to want to say that, but he answers anyway. "You do deserve it, love. You deserve the world, and not only because you were hurt. You're a good person, and good people deserve to be loved. I'm glad you're at a spot in your life where you can recognize your worth."

"It feels like it was a lot longer than six years," Harry mumbles, and yeah, Louis really doesn't know where his head is at right now. He's jumping around from subject to subject, not really making it easy for Louis to follow. "Like, sometimes I forget that I didn't spend my whole life like that. It feels like I did. It feels like my childhood and, like, my few good years with you didn't even happen to me, but they happened to someone else. I don't know. I'm not making any sense. I think I'm just tired."

"Then rest, love," Louis whispers. He doesn't want to acknowledge what Harry said before that. He doesn't want to know that Harry doesn't connect or relate to who he was before all of this happened. That's too big for Louis to process this late at night. 

Dinner with Anne the following night goes well. Robin couldn't come, something to do with work, and Harry's upset about it at first, but the presence of his mom is all he needs. 

Harry made some spaghetti while Louis was at work, so they have that to eat. It's mostly Harry and Anne talking and Louis sitting off to the side, listening and observing quietly. He doesn't mind. At all, really. He likes seeing Harry happy, and that's what he is around his mom. He's excited and enthusiastic while talking to her, and he doesn't stop smiling. Louis wonders selfishly if that's how he looks around Louis, too. 

As the night goes on, it becomes obvious to Louis that Harry dodges questions seamlessly. If Anne asks how he's been sleeping, Harry'll tell her about a cool dream he had a week ago. If she asks him how his medication is going, he tells her about something Kelly said that was funny. If she asks if he's been eating enough, he describes the pie that made a few weeks ago in great detail. And he's so convincing and good at it that Anne doesn't even really realize he didn't really answer her question at the end of it. 

It's not necessarily a bad thing, Louis knows that. Harry is protecting himself and avoiding certain subjects that make him uncomfortable, which is fair. Louis just finds it a bit odd that he hasn't realized Harry would much rather bring up a touchy subject himself than for someone else to do it. He's unsure if Harry does that with him as well. 

"And where's my sweet Penny?" Anne asks, when they finish dinner and Louis' collecting their plates. He rinses of the worst of it and sets the dirty dishes in the sink. 

"Sleeping in our bed," Harry answers, sounding pouty. Sure enough, when Louis turns around, he's pouting. "She seems sad today, ever since Louis took Ellie and Moose over to Nick's."

Louis finds it absolutely adorable how Harry projects how much he cares about them through Penny. Obviously, Penny will miss them too, but it's only been a few hours. She probably hasn't even noticed yet. 

"I miss having her around, you know," Anne says, smiling sadly. They've relocated to their room, and Anne is petting Penny softly. Harry's sitting next to her, scratching her head. "She's a sweetheart."

"You should get a cat," Harry says, his possessiveness poorly disguised. His unspoken  _ this one is mine, you aren't getting her back _ , is loud and clear. Anne laughs quietly and presses a kiss to Harry's forehead. 

"Maybe. I'll think about it." She pats his cheek gently. "If I do, I'd want you to come with me and help me and Robin pick one out."

Harry's face lights up. "Okay," he says, sounding excited. God, he's practically fucking beaming. Louis has to look away; sometimes, the immense pride he feels for him is too much to feel all at once.

Three days later, Louis finds himself laying in bed with Harry, both of them shirtless. 

He's trying not to freak out about it, or worry that they're going too fast for Harry. These are always Harry's ideas, and Harry has been good about doing things for himself and not for other people. Still, both him and Harry are noticeably and anxious as they lay next to one another. Harry's fumbling with his fingers against his chest, his arms strategically covering as much of his torso as he can, and Louis' lying perfectly still. He doesn't want to do anything wrong. 

That's literally all they're doing: laying down next to each other in the same bed, watching TV. There's no funny business going on, there was no kissing involved before this. It's strictly them being shirtless. It's almost laughable. Years ago, Louis would push himself inside of Harry without a second thought, and now, being shirtless together is terrifying. 

For Harry, though, this is a revelation. This is a huge fucking deal for him. Exposing a new part of himself to Louis, allowing Louis to look. Louis hasn't looked much, but from what he saw in his brief, stolen glances, there's a scar running in-between the laurels at the bottom of his stomach. It almost looks like a scar someone who got a c-section might have, only a lot smaller. And the rose necklace Louis got for him forever ago is laying against his chest.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harry glancing at him nervously. His hands are covering his butterfly tattoo, and Louis wants to see it again so, so badly. A few days ago, he wasn't paying any attention to tattoos when Harry was so upset. But Harry's not upset anymore, not really, and Louis' favorite tattoos of Harry's have always been the butterfly and the black star on his arm. For no real reason, except for that they encapsulate who Harry is at heart. 

"What?" Louis asks, feeling breathless. He realizes he doesn't even know what Harry turned on the television. He tries to focus on the man talking, but his brain feels decayed. 

Harry bites down on his lip. "Just, can I do something?"

Louis nods shakily, his throat suddenly feeling too dry to speak. Harry can do whatever he wants, but Louis' not going to allow him to do anything remotely sexual right now. This is intimate enough. (And why should it be? They've literally  _ made out,  _ with tongue _ ,  _ recently. Why does this feel so big?).

Harry pulls the blanket over his torso, and Louis' heart wobbles. He should've realized Harry was uncomfortable, should've told Harry more that they didn't need to do this, should've -- He stops himself and tells himself to shut the fuck up for once when Harry scoots over closer to him. When he's close enough, he covers Louis with the blanket as well, so about half of his torso is covered. He presses his cheek to Louis' shoulder and brings his hand up to trace over his _ it is what it is  _ tattoo. 

Louis swallows thickly, processing what this means. Harry is seemingly comfortable with Louis being able to feel him, but not so much with Louis seeing him. It seems backwards to Louis, although he's not going to criticize Harry's thinking. 

"I'm gonna sleep," Harry murmurs, his lips moving against Louis' skin as he talks. 

It makes Louis shudder, all of it.

"It's only five in the afternoon, love. It's too early. I don't want you messing up your sleep schedule."

"Lou," Harry whispers. "You think too much."

Louis snorts, surprised. "Coming for you, I think that's a little hypocritical, sweetheart."

"Can't hear you," he says as he burrows deeper into Louis' side. "’M sleeping. Sorry."

He really shouldn't let Harry sleep right now. Harry's on a very specific sleep schedule, and he has been for months. He goes to bed with Louis, wakes when Louis' getting ready so he can see him, stays awake until Louis leaves, goes back to sleep, and then wakes up for good at around ten or eleven. He tries to stay in bed for as long as he can, unthinking and unfeeling, because according to Harry, he "tries to make the hours without Louis go by quickly and painlessly," and Louis doesn't want to mess that up. 

He doesn't want to mess up this either, though. This, Harry being so close to him, both physically and emotionally. Him wanting to fall asleep in Louis' arms, against his bare skin. So he lets it be, and when Harry starts to breathe softly onto his skin and his hand stops moving, showing Louis that he's fast asleep, he knows he made the right choice. Not just in letting him nap, but about everything. About leaving Nick, about taking so much time off from work, about agreeing to let Harry move in. All of it. 

And because he thinks they both deserve it, he closes his eyes and falls asleep too. 


	5. chapter five

Two weeks later, Louis gets a call from Harry literally three minutes after he clocks in at work.

His initial thinking is that he forgot something important and Harry's calling him to tell him, but Louis knows that he's just in denial. He stares down at the call for a minute, Harry's name on his screen looking like a warning. Harry rarely calls him when it's something good. So it's bad, and Louis just has to brace himself before figuring out just how bad it is. It could be a nightmare, or another panic attack, or something worse. It could be something worse. 

It's something worse. 

Louis answers, shakily brings the phone up to his ear. He doesn't care about the fact that Melissa's door is open and she can walk out anymore at see him on the phone, he doesn't think about the fact that he already has one strike, he doesn't think of anything except the well-being of Harry. 

Except, this time, it's not Harry that's doing poorly. 

"Something's wrong with Penny," is the first thing that Harry says when Louis finally accepts the call. He's beyond panicked, breathing shallow and fast and voice thick. He's undoubtedly crying. "Lou, Louis, I don't know what to do, fuck, I don't -- "

Louis' system threatens to go into overdrive, and he tries desperately to remain helpful to the situation. "Why do you think something's wrong?" He keeps his voice very, very calm in the hopes that it'll wear off on Harry. It doesn't. 

"She's -- she's -- I don't know, I don't know, something's just wrong. After you left, I went to go find her because she wasn't lying in bed, and -- Moose and Ellie were still with me, but I wanted her, and -- and she, like -- I couldn't find her. I -- fuck -- I was freaking out and then -- then I heard this, like, meow, but it wasn't a meow, Louis, she sounded so hurt, and I -- oh my God, just come  _ home _ ."

"Finish telling me what happened first please, love."

He lets out a harsh sob. "She was laying underneath my bed, like, I don't -- God, she's never done that before, and I grabbed her, and she's just -- I don't know. She had puke on her face and there was more puke in the kitchen and underneath the bed, and her stomach, like, I think something's wrong with her belly. She won't let me touch there."

He lets out another sharp cry, and it sounds so agonized that it pulls Louis out of his seat and out the door without grabbing his coat or bag.

"She just isn't acting right, Lou, I don't know how to explain it." He sniffles, hard. "And I was thinking about it, like, she's been off for weeks. She -- she hasn't been sleeping with us, and she -- God, I thought it was because Moose and Ellie were gone and she was sad. If they were here, if they weren't at fucking Nick's, we would've realized something was wrong with her sooner, fuck." 

Louis' hands are shaking so bad it's hard to get the keys in the ignition. After three failed attempts, he finally manages. "I'm on my way home okay, H? It's going to be fine, she's going to be fine -- "

"You don't fucking _ know _ that!" Harry shouts, almost screams. He cries harder, and then coos sadly. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry." He's talking to Penny, Louis can tell by the soothing tone in his voice. He's struggling to breathe, yet he's attempting to comfort a cat who can't understand what he's saying. "I'm so sorry," he keeps repeating to her, and every time he says it, Louis' heart breaks even more. 

"Harry," he says firmly, flicking on his blinker before he makes a sharp turn. "I need you to look up vets that are open right now."

"I don't want you to hang up, don't hang up, don't -- "

Louis clenches his jaw. "Harry," he repeats, firmer this time. "You have got to calm down. You're probably scaring her, okay? I know you're not trying to, but if she's -- "  _ dying _ , Louis almost says, and he's so fucking lucky he catches himself. "If she's hurting, she doesn't want to know that you're hurting too."

"I can't lose her, Louis," Harry cries, clearly not comprehending what Louis' trying to say. Louis doesn't blame him; if this was Ellie or Moose, he'd be just as inconsolable. Not because he loves Penny any less, but because Ellie and Moose are one-hundred percent his and always have been. He just has to be patient. 

"Look up a vet, Haz. Seriously. You don't have to hang up, just put me on speaker phone."

Harry does after a few seconds. He goes quiet, aside from heaving breathing and harsh sniffs, and Louis' pretty sure he's typing. Louis waits patiently, but his stomach drops dangerously when he hears a low, dark meow in the background. It scares and worries the absolute shit out of Louis. 

"Shh, shh, baby," Harry whispers, crying harder. "You're alright, you're fine, you're -- you're gonna be okay. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, Louis' coming home, just -- just shh, darling. Go back to sleep."

Ow, fucking fuck, this hurts. Louis needs to get home now, to be there for both Harry and Penny. 

"Harry, keep looking," he instructs. Harry starts to protest, but Louis cuts him off. "I’m driving, okay? I can't look up who's open this early in the morning. The faster you find a place to go, the faster I can get her there safely, okay?" He takes a deep breath, his hand tightening on the steering wheel. This is literally the worst thing that could happen to Harry. "I know you're scared, Hazza, but so is she."

He lets out a whimper. "I found one. It's open and it's close, I'll put it into the GPS on my phone, just -- how far are you?"

"A little over five minutes."

" _ Lou _ ."

Louis exhales deeply. "I know, sweetheart. I know. I'll be home soon."

When they get to the vet, Harry's having a full-on panic attack, and Louis doesn't know what he should do. 

Bringing Harry inside the vet like that would be a bad idea, right? He's a mess. An inconsolable, gasping mess. Louis tried talking him down on the way here, but it wasn't working in the slightest. Penny, though, is very sick. Louis had hoped that maybe Harry was being over dramatic because he loves her so much, although that's not the case. She's ill. Extremely ill. 

"Harry," he says tentatively, looking over at him. He has Penny clutched to him the best he can without causing her pain. He looks scared beyond belief. "Can you please try and calm down before we go inside?"

"We have to -- have to go  _ now _ , Louis."

"I understand that, babe, but maybe you can stay in the car while I take her?"

And Harry has barely been able to say a complete sentence since they got in the car, but the anger must overpower Harry's anxiety because he snaps, "She's  _ my  _ fucking cat. And do you honestly fucking thing I'd sit in a car all by myself?"

Louis blinks, surprised. He doesn't say what he wants to say --  _ don't get mad at me, she's mine too, please try and keep breathing normally while you can  _ \-- but he just nods and opens his door. Harry follows suit, sobbing steadily although breathing a lot better than he was only a few seconds ago (is that from adrenaline? Louis has no idea). They walk into the vet, Penny meowing lowly in Harry's arms, and thankfully, it's mostly empty. 

It is early in the morning, after all. Louis' just glad there's no one in the waiting room so, one, Penny can be seen ASAP and, two, people won't be staring at Harry. Not that either of them care much about that at the moment, but he knows later, when everything's calmed down -- and it will, it has too -- Harry will feel that embarrassment. 

The lady sitting at the counter looks at them. She's looking between Penny and Harry like she's not sure which one she's more worried about. "How may I help you?" she asks, voice squeaky. 

"Our cat is sick," Louis explains, motioning to Penny. "We don't -- we don't really have any idea with what, but she's -- um, it seems serious."

She nods. "Follow me, please." 

She takes them into a small office, Harry sniffling and crying pitifully behind them. Penny's pained meows harmonize with Harry's whimpers, and Louis thinks about that until the lady starts talking again. 

"My name is Jamie. The doctor is currently busy right now, but I can take a look at her and try to figure out what's the matter." She turns to Harry, a fake plastered smile on her face. "Can I see her, please?"

Harry looks like he's just been slapped. This woman, this stranger, is asking to rip away Harry's security blanket when he's highly distressed. It's like taking a pacifier from a sobbing baby. He holds her with more intent and strokes her head faster. 

"Haz," Louis mumbles quietly, looking at him with pleading eyes. "She knows what she's doing. You can't help Penny like she can."

Harry only offers a whimper in response before handing her over with trembling hands. As soon as Jamie has her, Harry crosses his hands over his chest and shuffles closer to Louis. He gnaws on his bottom lip with his teeth, and Louis sees the muscles in his hand flexing, so he knows he's probably abusing his nail beds again. He doesn't correct him on it right now and pulls him to his side, a firm arm around his back. 

"What's her name?" Jamie asks as she takes Penny's temperature. 

"Penny," Louis answers, because he's pretty sure Harry can't hear anything right now judging by the lost look on his face.

She writes that down. "How old is she?"

"Shit," Louis mumbles, trying to think quickly. "Young, um. A little over a year, if I remember correctly."

Jamie writes that down too. "How would you describe her symptoms?"

And Louis can't help with that. He can't provide useful information to that question, so he glances at Harry, who's all glossy eyes and heaving chest. Louis nudges him, feeling like a failure for not being able to handle this all. "H, love."

Harry blinks at him, shuddering. 

"How would you describe her symptoms?" he repeats, and Harry nods quickly at him like he understands what Louis needs from him. 

"Um," his voice sounds so small, so scared. "She's --she's been more tired, I guess, I -- and she hasn't been laying with -- with us like she, um, normally does, and -- " he pauses, tries to take a deep breath but it's shallow, too shallow. He coughs. "This morning, she, uh, she was hiding, and she's been meowing differently, and she -- she's in pain. Her belly hurts."

Jamie's hand goes to feel over Penny's stomach, and instantly, Penny lets out a loud, pained meow. Harry lurches forward, eyes wide. He doesn't touch her, thank god, but he's far too close to Jaime than he should be. 

"You're  _ hurting _ her," he breathes out, sounding terrified. 

Jamie's hand freezes and her eyes flick over to Louis. The look is clearly one that's supposed to read  _ get a hold on him or he's leaving _ , so Louis grabs his shoulders and gently leads him to a chair in the room, barely a foot away from them. He sits willingly, though he looks every bit of petrified as he did before. 

Jamie goes on seamlessly, although she takes her hands off Penny's stomach and only asks questions directly to Louis. "Any changes in her stool or eating?"

Louis feels like a fucking shitty cat dad. "We have two cats, I -- I don't even know. I haven't been able to tell anything new, but, like. . . I haven't exactly been looking, either."

She nods, and she begins listening to Penny's lungs. Once she's finished, she looks back to Louis. "That's okay, sir. Any other symptoms that you  _ are _ aware of?"

Harry clears his throat, and Louis watches as Jamie tenses. God, she's uncomfortable around him, which -- to be honest, is very understandable. Harry's an emotional wreck right now, not to mention the fact that he's almost six feet tall and has broad shoulders and tattoos everywhere; Louis can see how he'd look intimidating to a stranger. 

"She threw up a few times this morning," he whispers. Once the words are out of his mouth, his teeth immediately sink back down onto his lip. It's definitely going to be bleeding by the time they get out of here. 

She has bladder stones, apparently. And she's likely been in pain for a long time. 

That's about all Louis can process, because once the doctor uses the words ' _ immediate surgery, _ ' Harry absolute  _ loses _ it. Louis has to try and calm him down, which includes stopping him from dragging his nails down his arms (that's new, Louis notes) and from trying to get to Penny. The doctor and Jamie watches them, stunned and concerned, and Louis tries to answer their questions as effectively as he can with Harry like this. 

"We'll need to keep her overnight," the doctor tells them, and it makes Harry cry harder. God fucking damn, this is too fucking much for one person to handle. Louis' dealing with Harry and his fear about Penny and these poor people who are just trying to do their jobs all at once, and he wishes, selfishly and ashamedly, that Harry could be fucking  _ stable  _ for once. 

"That's fine," Louis says quickly, despite Harry's cries that no, no, she has to come home, he needs her home. Louis stands up from where he was bending down in front of Harry and takes a step forward so he can reach Penny. He pets her head a few times, hands shaking, and that's all he allows himself because if he keeps it up, then he'll be crying too and then the staff here will for sure think this poor cat lives with a bunch of fucking crazy people. 

"Can you please take her now?" Louis asks, voice low even though Harry's going to hear him no matter what. "He's not going to calm down right now, and I need for her to be taken care of as soon as possible." He gives them a tight smile. "He just. . . He just really loves his cat."

The doctor nods, still looking bewildered. "Alright, sir. Before you leave, please see Jaime at the front desk so she can take your information."

Louis nods and looks at the ground -- not at Penny, not at pained, meowing Penny, he can't -- until they leave the room, shutting the door behind them. Louis counts to ten in his head before turning around to look at Harry. 

He's still crying, still shaking, still breathing poorly. 

Louis sighs. "Love, she's going to be fine. The doctor says this is common in cats."

"She said this is common in  _ older _ cats," Harry corrects, voice choked off. His eyes are wide, and he's holding himself like he's about to break. "Penny's not even two."

"She's okay, Harry."

"She's having  _ surgery _ ."

"And she's young, so her chances of making out of it completely fine are good," Louis says, on the verge of snapping. He just -- can't take this today. His stress levels are through the fucking roof, and he knows it's not Harry's fault, he knows that. Penny brought a lot of light into Harry's life when he was completely surrounded by dark, and he knows that Harry contributes his progress to her. Like he owes it all to a small cat who sleeps the majority of the day and chases Moose around, trying to get his tail. 

Harry lets out a cry, looking back down. "You're mad at me," he accuses. "You -- you think I'm overreacting, you -- God, Louis, fuck you."

Louis recoils, stunned. He can handle Harry being upset, but not angry. Not angry with him. What the fuck did he do to deserve that? 

"I'm sorry," Harry murmurs, when Louis doesn't respond. He wipes over his eyes harshly. "I'm -- I just want to go home, I just want to sleep, but I can't -- we can't just leave her here."

God, Louis hates it when Harry tries to sleeps his worries away. He hates it with a passion. When Harry's only defense left is to sleep, Louis knows he's feeling really low. And, like, of course Louis knew was already feeling super shitty -- just  _ look  _ at him, he's a wreck -- but he doesn't like hearing Harry say that. 

He takes a steadying breath. "We can't stay here all night, Harry. The doctor will take care of her, okay?" Harry opens his mouth and Louis cuts him off, already knowing what he's going to say. "She's not going to be alone. If there's not a person here, there will be other animals at least. And she won't be scared; I didn't get all the details, but they'll probably put her on some sort of pain medication that'll probably make her sleepy."

He doesn't know if any of that is true, and he's pretty sure that Harry knows he's bluffing, but it seems to relax him slightly at the same time. 

The entire ride home, Louis keeps reaching over to turn the radio up so he can't hear Harry crying and he just thinks. About everything. About how tiring all this can be. Because it is, it really is. It's exhausting. Waking up every day, not knowing what mood Harry is going to be in. Not knowing for certain if Harry's telling the truth. Constantly feeling like he's doing the wrong thing. Always being scared that Harry's going to tumble back to where he once was, terrified of everyone and everything. It stresses him out. 

He rolls his eyes at himself and flicks on his blinker overly harsh. Harry's been fucking abused and beaten and goddamn raped, over and over and over again, and here Louis is, having the audacity to think about how Harry sometimes stresses him out. Jesus Christ. 

Logically, he knows that this anger is stemming from his worry for Penny. Because of Harry, he can't exactly feel that heartache that his mind desperately wants to, so it's warped it into hot anger. 

Still. That doesn't make this day any less shitty, doesn't make him any less pissed off. Not at Harry, not really, but at the fucking world because this is a _ joke _ . Why can't Harry just be left  _ alone _ ? Louis tries so hard to protect him, but every fucking time they turn around, another thing is slamming into Harry's gut at full force. Harry's been tested enough, hasn't he? He's gone through hell and back twenty times over; he doesn't deserve anything else. 

"God, I think I'm gonna throw up," Harry warns from the passenger seat. 

At first, Louis doesn't react. Harry feels like he's going to throw up a lot -- it's an anxiety thing -- and the only time that Louis knows of that he's actually thrown up due to stress is when Anne tried going back to work all those months ago. And then Harry gags, and Louis curses, flinging his arm over Harry to reach the top compartment. He digs around for a bag, doing his best to keep his eyes on the road -- God, wouldn't it just be fucking great if they got in a car accident right now? Fuck. Maybe Louis needs to sleep when they get home, too. His hands finally grasp plastic and he pulls it out, gives the bag to Harry. 

"If you're gonna throw up, do it in -- " 

Before he can even finish, Harry's puking loudly. At least he gets it all into the bag. 

It sets off a fresh wave of panic and tears inside Harry, and Louis closes his eyes for a moment before realizing oh, right, he's driving, so he reopens them quickly. He squeezes Harry's knee and sighs. "We'll be home soon, H. Just hang in there."

"I want Penny," he whimpers, clinging to Louis' hand tightly. He cries, loud and thick. "How did we not notice sooner?"

"Don't do that to yourself," Louis grumbles, shaking his head. "That's stupid. It's not your fault. Either of our faults."

Harry doesn't make it that easy. "I'm home with her every minute of every day and I didn't even realize -- "

"Harry," Louis snaps, angry and hot. "Don't fucking do that to yourself. I'm being serious."

Neither of them say anything else for the rest of the car ride. When they get home, Harry shakily pulls himself out of the car, puke bag in hand, and waits by his car door for Louis. He never walks ahead of him, always has to be right next to Louis. Louis forces himself to place a hand on his lower back as the walk to their door. 

After tossing the puke bag into the trash, Harry makes a beeline for their bedroom, ignoring Moose and Ellie completely. Because of that, and because Louis isn't eager to pick up the pieces of Harry right now, and because of Penny, he pays a little more attention to them both than he normally would.  _ I hope Penny knows how much I love her _ , he thinks, and then curses himself for doing the exact same thing he told Harry not to do. 

After giving them both a kiss on the head, he stands up straight and heads to the backroom. Harry's in the bathroom, the door open, and he's holding a finger under the running water, staring at it intently. 

"How many times have I told you to leave your fingers alone?" Louis asks, sighing heavily. He stands next to Harry and grabs Harry's hand to inspect the damage. The skin below Harry's left pointer finger is bright red; the cuticle has been torn off, and blood is slowly seeping from his nail bed. Louis clenches his jaw and wordlessly holds his finger under the water again. 

After the bleeding stops, Louis grabs a band-aid from under the sink. 

"What'd your mom do after you threw up last time?" he asks. He folds the band-aid over Harry's finger carefully, the anger burning brighter in his belly as Harry winces. 

Harry takes a second to answer. "She called your mom, I think. Just to -- just to make sure it wasn't anything to worry about."

"And is it?"

Harry shakes his head and looks at his feet. Louis lets go of his hand and breathes in deeply. 

"Okay. Good. Brush your teeth and then come to bed, please. I'll grab you some water and some Advil." He turns to go, and Harry stops him. 

"Why're you being so mean?" he questions, voice small. He won't look up at Louis. He's not crying anymore, and Louis has a gut feeling he forced himself to stop so Louis wouldn't be upset anymore. "I'm -- I'm sorry I freaked out, okay, but she's -- she's like my baby, Louis."

Louis glances to the side. "I'm not being mean. Trying to, anyway. I'm not trying to be."

"You seem annoyed," Harry says, and his voice is getting the way it does when he's anxious about something. All jittery. "Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because I made you leave work," Harry offers. "Because I was being unhelpful on the phone, and I was a mess at the vet, and I'm a mess now, and I threw up in your car, and I picked open my finger, and I was rude to you, and -- "

"God, do you ever say anything nice about yourself?"

Harry makes a pitiful noise, eyes still cast down. "I think I'm gonna go lay down in my room," he starts, and Louis stops him with a gentle hand on the inside of his elbow. Harry looks at him, eyes wide. 

"Please don't do that. Not unless you really want to."

"You're  _ mad _ at me."

"I'm not," Louis objects, shaking his head. He gives Harry a weak, thin smile. 

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "Then what? Why're you acting like this?"

"I'm allowed to be emotional too," Louis defends, because he rarely is anything other than supportive and kind to Harry, and he needs a break sometimes. "But I'm just -- I'm sick of the world fucking you over so much. I'm sick and tired of thinking we're finally out of the woods with this whole mess, only for us to get screwed over yet again."

Harry looks wary. "I'm never going to be, like, cured, Louis. You know that."

Louis stares at him blankly. "And I'm sick of you talking so badly about yourself all the time."

"Penny almost fucking died today and now you're making me even more stressed out," Harry snaps, pulling his arm away from Louis' grip. His anger is sudden, although, honestly, well-deserved. "I'm so fucking sorry I can't handle things properly, okay? I'm so fucking sorry that me trying isn't good enough for you anymore, but if you're getting disappointed in me, it's because you're setting your expectations too fucking high."

Maybe now is not the time to mention it, but there's nothing more in the world that makes Louis more proud than Harry defending himself. 

"Tell me if the vet calls you and tells you anything," Harry mumbles, pushing past Louis to get out of the bathroom. Louis watches him hesitate before choosing to go into their room, and Louis sighs in relief. He didn't fuck shit up too much. He follows after Harry and climbs into bed next to him, lays behind him but doesn't touch. He's pretty sure he doesn't deserve to touch right now, not when he was acting so selfish. 

"I'm not mad at you," Louis whispers, staring at the span of Harry's back. "I'm sorry for being a dickhead and making this about me when Penny's sick. And I promise I'm never, ever disappointed in you."

Harry inhales shakily. Louis watches his back move as he breathes out. "She has to be okay, Louis. I can't take losing her."

And now Louis can't help it; he moves closer to Harry and hugs him close. Harry turns into his arms and shoves his head into Louis' neck. 

"You won't lose her, Hazza. Everything's going to be alright."

Harry doesn't say anything and quickly falls asleep. Louis watches him, takes in his blotchy cheeks and half-open mouth. He never did brush his teeth, so his breath smells like puke, but Louis' barely focusing on it. He's too busy threatening the entirety of the universe, warning it that there will be hell to pay if it even _ think  _ about hurting Penny. 

Two hours later, Louis slips out of their bed to update Anne. He probably shouldn't have waited so long to tell her about this. He texts her instead of calling her, because he still feels off and doesn't exactly want to use the little energy he has to deal with all of Anne's questions at once. 

He pulls open his phone and sees two missed calls from his work, a voicemail, and a simple text from Melissa.  _ Strike two _ , it reads, and Louis rolls his eyes at how melodramatic is. She can just go right ahead and fire him. It's not like he likes his job, not like he'll miss it much. 

He ignores Melissa's texts and finds Anne's name in his inbox. He clicks it open and formulates a text. 

_ Hi Anne. Hope you're well. We had to rush Penny to the vet this morning bc she wasn't doing well. She has bladder stones -- in surgery now. If all goes well, she'll be back home tomorrow.  _

He presses send and sighs. As he waits for her response, he stares up at the ceiling. He feels terrible about being so hard on Harry today. He wants to say that he doesn't know where it came from, but he does. The anger is still hot in his belly. He still feels cheated. But that's not Harry's fault, and he should've been kinder to him, especially since Harry's biggest fear came to life today. 

_ How's Harry?? So sorry about Penny _ , is Anne's response, and Louis stares at it for a minute. He doesn't really know how Harry is. Like, Harry's sad, of course he is, but Louis doesn't know how deep it runs. Will Harry be better tomorrow when Penny's back in his lap, or will this stick? Louis has a gut-feeling it's not the former. 

_ Had like three panic attacks. He threw up too. He's sleeping right now. _

Anne replies almost immediately.  _ Do you think I should come over? Or call him? _

_ Not sure, to be honest. I'll see how he is when he wakes up and let you know.  _

He presses send, and as he does so, he realizes he's on the opposite side of things. Anne used to be the one telling Louis that now's not a good time, and now Louis' telling that to Anne. It's bizarre. Everything just played out so weird. 

But maybe it didn't. Maybe this is exactly how it is supposed to happen. 

A few minutes later, Harry comes into the living room. His face is puffy from crying and there are tears leaking out of his eyes. He sniffles, and Louis' heart clenches. 

"Sweetheart," he murmurs, hating how lost Harry looks. Moose gets up from where he was laying on the couch next to Louis and sniffs at Harry's feet, and Harry just barely brushes his fingers over his head. 

Harry sniffles again. "Did the vet call yet?"

"No. If they haven't called in the next hour, I'm gong to call them to check in on her."

Harry nods slowly. His eyes flick to the kitchen before he looks back to Louis. 

"Are you hungry?" he asks, already starting to stand up before Harry nods. He presses a kiss to Harry's cheek and squeezes his shoulder, and scratches Moose's side as he passes them to the kitchen. "What do you want?" 

Harry shrugs, his arms snaking around his waist. "Don't know. I don't wanna throw up again though."

"I'll make you something light then." 

He ends up getting Harry some toast with jam and some grapes, because the fridge isn't stocked as much as it normally is. He hands it to Harry, and Harry takes it with both hands. He just stands there for a moment, and Louis smiles softly at him. 

"Why don't we sit down, yeah?" he says. When Harry doesn't protest, Louis gently pushes him towards the direction of the couch. Harry sits, still silently crying, and shakily pulls his legs up onto the couch. Louis grabs a blanket off the back of the couch and sets it around Harry's shoulders. He reaches forward and presses a kiss to Harry's temple. "She'll be alright, baby. I know you're upset, and I'm not telling you you can't be, but I don't want you beating yourself up over this."

Harry gives him a miserable look. "They said she's been in pain for weeks, and I didn't notice."

"Neither did I. Cats and dogs don't really show pain the way people do, okay?" He squeezes Harry's knee. "Now that we know what this looks like, if it happens again, we can act sooner."

Harry swallows thickly and looks down at his plate. "This can't happen again."

Louis just smiles at him, because he won't do anything stupid like promise that Penny won't get sick again. That's like shooting himself in the foot. Instead, he says, "Do you want me to turn on a movie?"

Harry doesn't say anything for a few minutes, and Louis doesn't force him to hurry up. He has time, he has patience. Where this level of self-control was early, Louis doesn't know, but it's here now. Eventually, Harry turns to him, a ghost of a smile on his face. It's not even there, but Louis can tell it would be there if it were any different circumstances from the way Harry's eyes twinkle, still leaking tears. 

"Can we -- I liked that night when we watched  _ The Princess and the Frog _ ," he says quietly. He shrugs a little. "I know we already watched it, but."

Louis smiles for the both of them, and leans forward to press a kiss to the tip of Harry's nose. Now Harry does smile, even if it's thin and short-lived. "'Course, love. Just let me pull it up."

Getting Harry to sleep that night is impossible. 

He's anxious as all fuck. He's had another two panic attacks already. Louis swears to God, if it gets as bad as the last one did, he's taking him to the hospital. It lasted twenty whole minutes -- twenty minutes of Harry choking and gasping and clutching onto Louis' wrist with a bright red face and fear-stricken eyes. It scared Harry, which is making him even more anxious, which could very easily slide him into another attack, but Harry doesn't seem to understand that, or maybe he can't help it. 

"The vet said she was fine," Louis tells him again, for maybe the tenth time since he called the vet a few hours ago. They said that the surgery went well, and that she was still under anesthetics, but they should wear off completely by morning. From there, they'll re-examine her, and if she's fine, she'll come home with instructions on where to go from here. 

Harry groans quietly next to Louis. He's curled up on his side, facing Louis, although they aren't touching. Harry's feeling sick and terrible, and Louis doesn't want him feeling any worse by Louis invading his personal space. He has a headache, and his stomach hurts, and he's starving since he didn't eat dinner or breakfast, but he won't let Louis get him anything because he's convinced he'll throw it up. He has the same mindset with water, which is making Louis worry because he doesn't know how easily someone can get dehydrated. Harry's barely eaten, plus he threw up, plus he's cried all fucking day. Is that enough to make someone dehydrated? He has no fucking idea. But if it is, it's just going to make him feel even worse. 

Harry closes his eyes and lets out a shudder. "I haven't had this bad of a day since the beginning," he whispers, face scrunched up. "Haven't had this many panic attacks in a day in so long."

"I know, lovely. I'm sorry. Just try to sleep."

Harry doesn't listen to him. "I feel so, like, weak."

Louis sighs. "Drinking some water might help, H. Eating and sleeping too. You've had a rough day; you need to make sure you're taking care of yourself."

"I just want Penny." He turns his head so half is face is tucked against the bed. He looks so small, so wounded. Louis hates this. So fucking much. 

Louis focuses on the TV for a few minutes before glancing at the clock. It's almost midnight. Louis has to get up in five hours for work, which Harry doesn't know about yet. He doesn't want to go in, he wants to call off, but he can't just fucking lose his job without having a different one lined up. He's going to start looking tomorrow, but then -- what? He's just going to call in and say he can't come with no prior warning there too? Harry's not going to stop needing him. Ever, it seems like. He doesn't know what to do. 

He has to start with being honest with Harry though, so he looks back down at him and bends down to press a kiss to the side of his face. "H, love."

Harry makes a noise. "What?"

He takes a deep breath before telling him, "I have to go into work tomorrow. I don't have a choice."

Harry's eyes snap open, and he sits up on his elbow, looking panicked. "What about -- what about Penny? What -- she can't stay there all day long, I don't want her to -- "

"Your mom will get her, I've already spoken to her about it." 

Harry makes a tiny gasping noise. "And what -- you're just gonna, just gonna be gone all day? When Penny almost fucking died and I need you? I can't -- " He pulls back, looking offended. "How can you leave me alone all day after I've literally had five panic attacks today? How can you just do that?"

Louis bites down on his lip before releasing it. "You won't be alone, okay? Your mom and Gemma will stay with -- "

"I don't  _ want _ Gemma here, I  _ told _ you that." He sits up completely, kicks the blankets off him aggressively. Ellie looks at him, unimpressed. 

"Love, you can't avoid her forever because she's getting married. That's not fair. She'll be focusing on Penny while your mom focuses on you. It'll be fine."

Harry's crying again, all wet eyes and wobbling lips. "I don't want them. I want  _ you _ ."

"God, H. I don't have a choice. I'm so sorry."

Harry's chest is already rising and falling faster than normal, but it's not something to worry about until it stutters and Harry gasps. Immediately, Louis scoots closer to him and wraps an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. 

"You cannot have another panic attack right now, Harry," he says sternly, and Harry whimpers loudly. 

"I want you here tomorrow. Please, Lou, please, I need -- "

Louis shushes him quietly. "I'll lose my job, baby, I can't -- "

"Then lose your fucking job!" Harry shouts, sounding frantic. He pulls away from Louis and lets out a sharp cry as he gets out of bed. He turns to Louis, shaking his head. "I can't handle this all without you, I can't, Louis. I  _ need  _ you."

Louis' heart is breaking inside his chest. "Your mom can take care of you for one day, Harry. She knows you better than I do sometimes."

"It's not one fucking day!" Harry cries, shaking his head frantically. "Today's Wednesday -- that means you aren't going to be home all day until Saturday, which --  _ Lou _ . I'm asking you to stay here with me. I'm telling you that I need you.  _ I need you _ . Don't chose your fucking job over me."

"If I don't work, I don't get paid," Louis snaps, because what the _ fuck _ . That's not fucking fair. And he knows Harry's pulling at loose strings because he's scared, but that doesn't give him an excuse to be so ridiculous. "If I don't get paid, I can't afford bills, or gas, or rent, or -- or medical bills, because who do you think is going to pay for Penny's surgery? Me. And -- " he tries to calm himself. "And I'm not at all upset with you about that. I can handle it, I have a lot of savings and I make decent money, but I can't -- I can't just get fired from my job like this."

Harry's chest is still rising and falling at a fast rate, but he seems too scared and desperate right now, too focused, to have a panic attack right now. "Ask -- ask Nick. He'll do it, you know he will. He can, like, give you a loan, he can -- "

"Jesus fucking Christ," Louis hisses, beyond irritated. "What the fuck are you on about? You want me to ask my ex-fiancé for money so I can afford to not work, just so I can spend time with the guy I broke up with him for? Does that -- in what world is that okay?"

He can tell that Harry realizes how stupid that sounds now. He whimpers again, and then runs a hand over his face. "I need you, Louis."

"And you still have me. You always will. I just can't be right next to you all the time. I wish I could, but I can't."

"I don't get it. You took two weeks off last time when I was, like." He sighs and rolls his eyes. "When I had that, like, depressive episode, or whatever. You listened to me when I told you I needed you. You took the time off and it wasn't a big deal. Why can't it be like that this time?"

Louis really doesn't understand why Harry can't grasp this. Maybe it's the panic clouding his head, or his worry for Penny is too strong to think straight. Harry isn't incompetent; he knows how jobs work. You show up, you get paid. You screw your boss over, you get fired. It's not rocket science, and it's honestly a very reasonable system. Louis' been lucky with how many chances he's gotten. 

"Baby," Louis murmurs, trying to get his thoughts in order. He fiddles with his hands in his lap. They haven't been so blindingly selfish like this before, and Louis' trying to get his feet under him. "I took the time off last time because I was worried you were going to hurt yourself if I didn't."

Harry takes a step back, scoffing. "Jesus Christ, Louis. I wouldn't do that."

"I know. At least I think I know that. But that's not -- " He pauses to take a deep breath. "You're a lot better than how you started out. We all know that. And I understand how shifting from Anne to me might've been hard on you; she was near constantly, and I'm gone all day almost every day. But you've -- you've done a pretty good job at handling it, which honestly surprised the fuck out of me. I thought for sure this wasn't going to work."

Harry frowns at him, and Louis quickly continues. 

"But I'm so glad it has. And I wouldn't change anything for the world, but -- Harry. Love. You're at a healthy time in your life. You're the happiest you've been in a long time. Sure, today has completely sucked, but that doesn't discount everything else. And I think. . . I think you need to start realizing that you can do this all on your own. You don't have to, obviously, and no one is expecting you too, but you've progressed as much as you have because of how hard you've fought. Penny didn't magically rehabilitate you, and neither did your mom, and neither did I. You rebuilt yourself."

"What does this have to do with you staying home with me tomorrow?" Harry asks, seemingly unaffected by something Louis thought would make him happy to hear. 

Louis sighs. "I guess it doesn't, I don't really know. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you'll be fine without me nine or ten hours."

"Louis. I've literally had -- "

"Five panic attacks today, yes, I know," he huffs, because he was there. For every single one. He held Harry and soothed him and wiped his tears every single time. "And I'm not saying you won't have one tomorrow, but I'm saying it won't be the end of the world."

Harry looks hurt. "Don't oversimplify my problems, fuck. Have you ever had a panic attack? It feels like you're fucking dying, because you literally can’t fucking breathe. It's terrifying. And it fucking feels like the end of the world sometimes."

Louis doesn't understand why everything today has been so shit. It's like him and Harry are speaking two different languages. Louis' trying so fucking hard for Harry, and Harry's trying too, of course he is, it's just -- he doesn't get why all the sudden they're at a fork in the road. Nothing's changed, except for maybe the fact Louis is being a bit harsher than normal. But Harry knows that Louis can't baby him all the time, he understands that. So why is it so difficult for them to talk to each other right now?

"Do you maybe want to call your mom?" Louis asks gently, and judging by the offended glare Harry gives him, it's the wrong thing to say. 

"Can you not handle my shit anymore?" Harry asks, voice low. "Can you -- is that with this is about? You're getting tired of my bullshit, aren't you?"

"No," Louis denies immediately. "No, Harry. Christ. Of course not."

"But the minute you can't fix something, you want to shove me over to my mom."

Louis squints at him. "To see if she can do something for you that I can't, yes. That's not a bad thing. She's your mother." Harry doesn't look so convinced, so Louis continues. "It's like that time after Anne tried going back to work and you got really depressed. She called me to come over and see if I could help you. And I -- I think I did. To an extent. She might be able to help."

Harry doesn't believe him, it's obvious. He looks one-hundred percent convinced that Louis is trying to pass his problems off to someone else because he can't deal anymore. Still, he nods slowly. "Fine," he whispers. "I'll call her. It's late, and I'll wake her up, but I'll call her. Because you want me to."

He comes back to the bed to grab his phone and turns to leave, and Louis tells him to wait. 

"What?"

"Stay in here with me," Louis says, confused. "If you -- I mean, I guess if you want privacy, go ahead, but, like. You can stay. We can cuddle, while you talk to her."

Harry stands and stares at him for a few seconds, eyebrows pinched together slightly and mouth in the shape of a frown. He taps the bottom of his phone against his palm a few times before sighing. "You're confusing the shit out of me today," he mumbles as he comes forward and gets into bed. As he dials Anne's phone number, Louis comes up behind him and snakes his arms around his waist, pulling him close. Harry rests his head against the pillow and sighs, looking somewhat content now, and holds the phone against his ear. 

Louis half-listens, half-doesn't to their conversation. He tries not too, but the times when Harry sounds a bit choked, like how he does when he tells Anne he hates his brain and when he says he misses Penny, Louis can't tune that out. After a while though, when Anne shifts the conversation from Penny and Harry to herself and lighter things, Harry's eyes start to flutter shut. Louis tries to encourage him to fall asleep by scratching his scalp and rubbing his back, but he still must be anxious because he fights it. So Louis gets out of bed and turns the light off, and grabs Ellie and puts her against Harry's chest, and Harry's done for. He gives Louis a sleepy, grateful look and Louis hunches over to press a quick kiss to Harry's lips before pulling back and laying behind him again. 

When Harry is finally asleep, Louis carefully grabs the phone from his relaxed hand and tells Anne quietly that he'll see her tomorrow before ending the call. He sets Harry's phone on the nightstand, and Harry shifts so he's pressed against Louis more. 

Louis closes his eyes, and he falls asleep too. 

Harry's quiet when Anne and Gemma get in the next morning and Louis gets ready for work. He's quiet and distant and in a different world, it seems. And Louis still hasn't forgotten what Anne told him so long ago: a quiet Harry means a scared Harry. A terrified one. 

When Louis has to leave, he kisses the side of Harry's head and squeezes his hand. He hopes Harry quickly realizes that there's nothing to be apprehensive about, that it's just his mom and his sister, Louis will be home, and Penny is fine. She's  _ fine _ . 

"Penny will be home in four hours," Louis whispers, running his hand through Harry's hair. "And I'll be back in nine. You're alright, H."

Harry looks so, so fragile right now. Louis wants to say he wishes he could see what's going on in his head, but he doesn't. He doesn't. He can't imagine how dark it can get in there. 

"I don't feel like myself right now," Harry whispers, voice low enough so Anne, who's only a few feet away in the kitchen, can't hear. "Like. You know how I told you that, um, Kelly said I dissociate from myself sometimes?"

Louis nods. She said it didn't happen regularly enough for her to feel comfortable with diagnosing hair with a dissociation disorder, especially since as the gap between Harry and his trauma widens, it happens less and less. Louis' pretty sure that, if Harry has experience that since he's moved in here, he never caught on to it. But Harry had said that Kelly said that it's one of Harry's brain's ways of trying to protect itself. 

"It feels like that," Harry says quietly, beginning to pick at his pants. He bites on his lip and shoots Louis a guilty look. "I really wish you didn't have to go."

Louis opens his mouth to defend himself, and Harry shakes his head. "No, I -- I get you have to. I do. I'm just -- last night I panicked, and said a bunch of stuff that's obviously stupid." He sighs, and leans forward to wrap his arms around Louis' neck lightly. "Can you please try and text me every hour or so? Just so, like. So I know you're okay."

Louis furrows his eyebrows, confused. "Why wouldn't I be okay, Haz?"

"Louis," he murmurs, insistent. "Just text me."

Louis pulls back, tries to read Harry's face for a little help in understanding what's going on in Harry's head, but he can't get anything. He doesn't have time to prod either, unless he wants to be late. 

"Okay," he relents, although he still feels awfully suspicious that something bigger is going on. "I'll call you on my break too. Make sure you update me about Ms. Penelope too, alright?"

Harry nods. "Okay, Lou. I will."

Louis says goodbye to Gemma and Anne before leaving, and the entire way to work he fights the urge to turn around and go back home. 

Penny's sound asleep, stretched across their bed with Moose, when Louis gets home from work. 

She looks healthy and normal, aside from the stitches laying in a hairless section on her lower belly. She chirps and purrs at Louis when he wakes her up by petting her, and he doesn't mean to cry with relief, but he does. Harry's in the shower, so he's pretty sure his body senses that it's okay, that he can finally let it out. 

"You fucking scared me, you asshole," he whispers, kissing her head all over. "Don't do that to your dad again, you hear me? He can't take it. You owe him so many cuddles."

She just meows, and Louis laughs wetly. 

Before Harry gets out of the shower, Louis has to talk to Anne about how everything went today, so he presses a final kiss to her head and heaves himself out of bed. Anne and Gemma are at the kitchen table, working on a puzzle that wasn't there this morning, talking quietly. 

Anne fills him in quickly. She explains that Harry has been quiet all day and had been isolating himself in his room before they went and got Penny. He didn't put her down for the first two hours, and when he finally did because he had to go to the bathroom, he had a short-lived panic attack. 

"He understands how silly that is," Gemma says. "He was so embarrassed."

For the rest of the afternoon, Harry stayed in their room with Penny in bed. Anne had to pressure him into eating, which Louis really, really doesn't like. It freaks him out when Harry doesn't want to eat. 

They all hear the shower turn off, and Louis sighs, unsure of what Harry's going to be like when he gets out. "But he only had the one panic attack?" he asks. 

Anne nods. "He got a little weepy after you called him, but other than that, he was fine. I mean, he wasn't fine -- he's not acting like himself at all -- but he didn't show it other than those two times, no."

"Okay. Okay, that's -- "

He cuts himself off when Harry comes out of the bathroom, hair in wet ringlets just under his ears. The self-conscious smile Harry gives him pulls at Louis' heartstrings. 

"He let you cut it again?" he asks, turning to Anne, who nods. 

"He only asked me to take about two inches off."

Louis' surprised. "He asked you to?"

She nods again, and it makes Louis grin. It's still mind-boggling to him how this person in front of him now is the same person who got all prickly when Louis even mentioned him getting a haircut that once. He's never, ever going to stop being stunned by Harry's progress.

And he's never going to stop being reminded that Harry's still not completely okay, either. Like with how he can still get jumpy, and days like today and yesterday, and every time Harry has a bad dream. But Louis' has to work harder on becoming okay with that. You have to take the bad with good, and all that. 

For the next month or so, Louis has to hold Harry's hand through things that Harry could've handled by himself pre-Penny getting sick. 

His nightmares are getting bad again, which -- his cat got sick, what does that have to do with him getting sex trafficked? Sure, they get worse the more Harry is stressed, but it's still confusing to Louis. And Harry's a lot more apprehensive about going out, even if it's just going through the drive-thru, or Niall coming over to say hi really quickly. He also flinched the other day when Louis touched his shoulder, and they both looked at each other like,  _ did that seriously just happen? _ He hasn't flinched from Louis in months. 

He's also been a lot less eager with the kissing, which Louis genuinely has no problem with. They still kiss every morning and every night, but there's no open-mouthed make-out sessions anymore. Not typically, anyway. Before Louis' going to drop Ellie and Moose off at Nick's, though, Harry won't  _ stop _ kissing him. 

"Haz," Louis laughs, pushing him back gently. Harry bites his lip, having the decency to look a little embarrassed. "'M dropping the animals off, not going out to lunch with him."

"I know," Harry murmurs. He shrugs a little. "Still makes me, like -- "

"Jealous?" Louis asks, laughing more.

Harry looks at the floor. "Nervous," he finishes, and oh.  _ Oh _ . Of course, Louis' so fucking stupid.

"Love," Louis sighs, shaking his head. He pulls at Harry's wrist so he comes forward, and Louis wraps his arms around him. "I promise I'm not gonna fuck Nick."

Harry's fingertips gnaw at Louis' ribs through his shirt nervously. "I know. I trust you. Don't really know if I trust him, but."

That makes Louis bite down on his lip and laughs breathlessly. He still remembers Nick telling him that about Harry, how serious Nick had sounded. "He said the same thing about you once, you know," he whispers. He's not sure he likes the parallel. Maybe he isn't trustworthy, if both Harry and Nick think that they have something to worry about when it comes to Louis. 

"That doesn't make me feel better, 'cause you did actually leave him for me."

"I didn't -- "  _ leave him for you _ , is his gut instinct to say. He didn't. At least, he's pretty sure he didn't do it consciously. But as the time passes by, he's not so sure about that anymore. 

"Alright," Harry mumbles. "Go. I'll make breakfast while you're gone or something."

So Harry's having a good day, Louis thinks silently. He's not been this bright in a while, and Louis' definitely not complaining. He kisses Harry on the cheek and goes to the door, but stops before he leaves. 

"Hey, uh, a while ago Niall texted me to see if we wanted to come over sometime. Shit happened, so I kind of blew him off, but, like. . ." He shrugs, a small smile forming involuntarily. "If you're feeling up for it, we can go whenever. Or he can come over here, it doesn't really matter."

Harry hesitates for a second before nodding. "Yeah. Okay."

Louis bites down on his lip, knowing he's about to push it with Harry. "Maybe, um. Maybe we can even all hang out again? The five of us, I mean?"

They've still only done it just the once since Harry's been back, and that's so, so fucked. So fucked. Louis hates it. 

Harry makes a face. "Maybe not yet. I'm still, like." He fumbles with his word-choice before sighing and saying, "I'm still not feeling great, mentally. I can handle Niall, but all five of them. . . probably not."

"Okay," Louis says, nodding. "Totally fine. I'll let them know."

He kisses Harry's cheek again, can't help it, and scoops Ellie up off the ground and grabs Moose's leash. His tail is wagging happily, while Ellie is grunting, annoyed. He tells her quietly to shush as he gets them in the car, and she meows at him, aggravated, in response. 

Fiona, Nick's best friend and practical guard-dog answers the door when Louis knocks, and Louis audibly sighs, knowing he's about to get his balls busted by her. 

"Nice to see you again, too, Louis," she says, her smile blindingly fake. She reaches forward and snatches Ellie out of his arms, and holds her to her chest protectively. 

Louis scoffs. "Here," he says, handing her Moose's leash. "I'm just gonna go. We don't have to do this." She takes it and he takes a step back, about to turn around. Before he can, she stops him, tone icy. 

"You shattered his heart, Louis."

He freezes. His heart stutters in his chest and he blinks too many times as he stares at her stupidly. He doesn't know what to say to that. What should a person say to that? And hasn't it been too long for this conversation to be reasonable? It's been months. 

"He wanted to fucking marry you," she spits, voice low and angry. Ellie's squirming in her arms. "Nick Grimshaw was willing to settle down with someone, and you just -- you left him. You  _ left _ him. You didn't even give him a  _ chance _ ."

"Because it wasn't about him," Louis argues, narrowing his eyes. "Me breaking things off wasn't about him, so -- "

She snorts. "You never deserved him. I told him that for the start, that you were bad news."

"Oh, please. You fucking loved me, you -- "

"You were a depressed little shit mourning the loss of your dead boyfriend," she snaps, shaking her head. She tilts her head to the side. "Which, by the way, I'm glad he's alive. Harry, I mean. For his sake, not yours."

Louis blinks, unsure if she's being sarcastic or not. 

"I told him that he couldn't fix you," she continues. "I told him that you were going through shit that he knew nothing about, and that getting involved with you was a bad fucking idea. The first time I met you were wasted at two in the afternoon, you -- "

"Don't patronize me," Louis hisses. "I was going through a shitty time. I never asked Nick to be there for me -- in fact, I remember very clearly telling him I didn't need anyone -- and he still chose to get involved with me. That's on him, not on me."

"And you leaving him for someone else? Is that on him too?"

Louis' face burns. "Of course not. I told you, that had nothing to do with him."

She stares at him, face perfectly blank, for a few seconds. "He's seeing someone else," she says, cold.

Louis doesn't feel an ounce of jealousy for a second. "Good. I'm glad."

"His names Thomas. He's in IT."

"That's great, Fi, really."

"He's fucking loaded," she snaps, clearly annoyed that she's not getting a rise out of him like she wanted. "And Nick really likes him."

Before Louis can respond (what he would've said, he doesn't know), Nick is appearing behind her, clearly annoyed. His face is flushed and his hair is soaking wet, a towel set on his shoulders. So he's obviously just gotten out of the shower. Maybe this wasn't set up like Louis was beginning to think it was. 

"Fiona," he hisses, not looking at Louis. He grabs Ellie from her arms and sets her on the floor before reaching down and unclipping Moose's leash. Moose immediately goes to him, but he doesn't pay attention to him, too busy glaring at Fiona. "I told you to come get me if he got here."

She looks unimpressed. "We were just catching up."

"Fiona -- "

"I was just telling him about Thomas," she says, turning to Louis with a small smirk. He rolls his eyes, and Nick scoffs. 

"I've slept with Thomas once, and he was a lame fuck, and you know it." He shakes his head at her before finally looking at Louis. Louis ignores how soft Nick's expression gets, how fucking sorry he looks. "I'm sorry. I swear I didn't do this on purpose."

"It's fine, Nick."

"No," Nick denies. "It's not. And I would invite you in for coffee or something, but I'm pretty sure she might actually kill you, so."

Louis laughs, fake and hollow. "It's fine. I should get home anyway."

Fiona scoffs and pushes her way passed Nick, clearly done with this conversation. She probably didn't realize that him and Nick were on semi-decent terms right now. She wanted to destroy Louis, and it backfired on her. Nick waits for her to leave before giving him a small smile. 

"I'm seriously sorry about her."

Louis' heart clenches. Nick's still in love with him, isn't he? At least a little bit. Fucking hell. "It's okay. I probably deserve it."

"You do," Nick agrees, which makes Louis feel better, somehow. He pauses for a moment to look behind him, probably to make sure Fiona isn't lingering. He looks back at Louis and asks, "How is he then? Harry? I talked to Niall the other day, he said --  _ he  _ called  _ me _ , first of all -- but he said that he was doing a lot better."

Louis crosses his arms, feeling the need to make himself look as small as he feels. "Why do you care, Nick?"

"I'd like to know that something good came out of us breaking up."

"You're torturing yourself."

"Probably." He shrugs. "Indulge me."

Louis chews on his bottom lip, working out what to say to him, before giving up. "He's okay. Decent, I mean. His cat, Penny, she just -- she had bladder stones, and she needed to get surgery, and that kind of pushed him back, but he's -- he's slowly bouncing back from that." He shrugs a little. "She's on diet food now, and Ellie keeps sneak-eating it, so if she looks fatter, it's because she is."

Nick laughs, and then looks sorry for it. "But, like. She's -- Penny's doing okay now?"

Louis nods. "For now, yeah. It might come back, and she's still not exactly in the clear from her surgery, but she'll probably be fine."

"Good. That's good."

"Yeah. It is."

A silence takes over, and Louis is quick to break it once he realizes Nick's not going to. "Alright, well. I should probably go."

"Okay," Nick says. "I'll drop them back off in, like, a week and a half?"

Louis nods, uncrossing his arms. "Yeah, that's fine. Just text me."

"Will do," Nick murmurs. He gives Louis a strained smile. "Alright, Lou. It was nice seeing you."

"You too, Nick."

He turns around and starts walking. He's about halfway down the walkway before he stops and turns around. Nick's still standing there. "Hey Nick?" he says, squinting at him, because the sun is blinding him. "Give Thomas a chance. You can teach him a thing or two in bed; that shouldn't be a dealbreaker."

Nick laughs, and then his face falls. "Is that your way of telling me that I shouldn't waste my time secretly hoping you'll come back?"

Louis' stomach churns, and he tries to tell himself that Nick wouldn't have said that if he wasn't somewhat joking. "Yeah," he says. "I guess it is."

Nick nods, and then salutes Louis. "Got it. I'll be engaged again the next time you see me."

A genuine laugh is pulled from Louis, and he shakes his head at him before waving goodbye and turning around. He's still smiling when he gets in the car, although when he starts driving it falls, and he's consumed by this tight sadness because fuck. Nick's an amazing person, and Louis broke his goddamn heart. It feels selfish to smile about anything after that. 

Four days later, Niall's over, and they've caught Harry on a day where he's quiet and he doesn't want to do anything except hide away into Louis' arms and cuddle with Penny. 

Niall gracefully ignores it, talks like nothing's going on. And nothing is really going on, Louis supposes. Harry told him that he's fine, that he's honestly just feeling a little off for no reason, and that he's not inwardly panicking. He's simply quiet. He also said that he still wanted Niall to come over, and that's how they ended up here, with Niall sitting on the chair, drinking beer and complaining about how Liz is pressuring him about moving in. 

"I like having my own place," he huffs, sipping at his beer. He had offered Louis one, but Louis hasn't drank in so long that it made his stomach churn just at the sight of it. Come to think of it, he hasn't had a sip of beer since Harry's moved in. Harry doesn't like it, it makes him remember things, so Louis had easily dropped it. A few beers isn't worth triggering Harry's PTSD. 

"You have been seeing her for a while, Ni," Louis points out. "And it's big enough house, why don't you want to share it with her?"

"Because I don't want to yet," Niall says simply, shrugging. He's very nonchalant about this whole thing, despite Liz being seriously upset that Niall won't even consider allowing her to move in. It's just how Niall is, Louis supposes; he's such a go-with-the-flow kind of guy that he doesn't realize ninety percent of people around him are anxious as fuck about those types of things. 

Louis and Niall chat about Liz for a few more minutes (" _ And -- oh, god -- her sister is, like, this rich lawyer lady. She called my curtains  _ cheap _ , Louis. My _ curtains. . ."), Louis only getting distracted once by Harry getting up and going to the kitchen, Penny hugged to his chest. He returns quickly with a bag of chips that Niall immediately asks for, and curls back into Louis' side easily. 

Niall's blabbering with his mouth full about something else now when Harry subtly scrapes his fingers over the inside of Louis' wrist. Louis glances down at him to see Harry peering up at him, looking a little shy. After Penny, he went back into his shell a bit, although it's nothing as dramatic as Louis was expecting, so he doesn't complain. 

"What, love?" he asks softly. Niall quiets down, and Harry shrugs a little. He sets his head back down against Louis' shoulder, his fingers kneading against Louis' sweatshirt nervously. 

"I was just wondering if, um, if Niall -- " he looks to Niall. "If you, like, have seen Liam's baby recently."

And that gives Niall something new to talk about, which makes Louis inwardly sigh with relief. He shows them a few pictures -- one of Elijah playing with a soccer ball, one with him on Liam's chest, one with him mid-tantrum -- and Harry intently looks at them all, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squinted like he's trying to memorize them. Louis makes a mental note to tell Liam to start texting Harry pictures of Elijah. 

"He's fucking huge now," Niall says, beaming. "Saw him the other day, and I swear, he tried saying my name."

That makes Harry laugh quietly, and Louis rolls his eyes. 

"Niall, he's no where  _ near _ talking yet."

Niall makes a face at him. "Uh, yeah he is, the kid's, like -- fuck, I don't actually know. He's like, a year, give or take a few months, I'm pretty sure. I don't fuckin' know, ask Liam. But he says 'mama' and 'dada' and 'blankie' - all that cute shit now."

Louis pulls back, stunned. "No shit. Has it really been that long already?"

"Yeah," Harry answers quietly. "He was born only a few months after I got back, Lou."

Louis tries to think, and, shit, yeah, Liam's kid is almost one. Which means that there's going to be a birthday party, which means Harry and Louis are going to be invited, which means Harry's going to have a meltdown because he's going to want to go or can't, or feel pressured to go but doesn't want to. Just thinking about it makes Louis nauseous, so he quickly changes the topic to Niall's parents, because it won't take long for Harry to realize the same thing, and Louis doesn't want him getting worked up over it so soon.

Niall leaves late, because even though Harry wasn't exactly contributing to the conversation, he still wanted Niall here. So only about an hour after Niall leaves does Louis declare that he's going to bed, and Harry mumbles something about being tired too before following him to the bathroom. Harry's putting toothpaste on his toothbrush when he catches Louis staring at him in the mirror. Before he can even ask, Harry waves him off. 

"I'm still fine, love." He hands Louis the toothpaste. "I just feel more tired than normal today, I don't know. It's not a big deal. I feel fine, I had a nice time today," he gives Louis a halfhearted smile, "I'm not going to have a mental breakdown if you look at me wrong."

"Okay," Louis says, laughing slightly. He likes when Harry jokes about it, except that he doesn't. He knows he should like when Harry jokes, but it makes him worried that he's deflecting or something, and then Louis has to remind himself that only he and Nick do that. 

They brush their teeth in a comfortable silence, and then Harry goes pee first while Louis gets changed. Louis' still only in his boxers, filing through his small selection of clean clothes, when Harry comes into the room, without knocking first. The way his eyes are glued to the ground shows that he knows what he's doing, so Louis tries not to draw attention to it and tries to concentrate back on picking out his pajamas. He hasn't felt like doing his laundry is so long that all the pajama shirts left have funky stains on them or too many holes, or they're too tight, or Louis just never wears them for no real reason other than they wound up on the bottom of the drawer once and they've never worked their way up the hierarchy again. 

Harry's getting undressed behind him, judging by the noises of clothes hitting the floor behind him. He hears him slide on his pajama pants, and then he shuffles over to what is probably his shirt drawer. A few seconds go by and Louis can't work out if Harry's completely dressed or not before he hears Harry sit down on the bed, the mattress creaking slightly. 

"What are you doing?" Harry asks, sounding curious. He's probably not familiar with Louis' particular prejudice against certain shirts, and Louis doesn't feel like being the weird one in this relationship, so he shuts his drawer and turns to Harry, trying to ignore the fact that he hasn't been this naked in front of Harry since he's been back. 

"I have, like, no clean shirts," he says quickly, before turning back around and digging out a pair of pajama pants he doesn't hate. He pulls those on, and as soon as he's no longer pretty much naked in front of Harry, he feels his heart slow down a bit and the blood stops rushing so loudly in his ears. His head levels out long enough for him to realize how big of a step this is for Harry, changing in front of Louis. Well, behind Louis, but whatever. It's the same sentiment.

Harry laughs quietly behind him and gets out of bed. He crosses the room, back to his drawers, and then something soft hits the back of Louis' head. He turns around, squawking loudly at Harry, and picks up Harry's Pink Floyd t-shirt he threw at him. 

"Violent, Styles," he mumbles, shaking his head, before he pulls the shirt on over his head. It swarms him the way all of Harry's shirts do, and that makes his belly burn with happiness and something else like it always does too. He hasn't really worn Harry's clothes recently, so it feels nice. Comforting. 

He gets into bed and Harry flicks off the lamp before rolling over to face him. "Where's that Ramones t-shirt I gave back to you forever ago? You don't wear it. That was one of my favorite shirts."

Louis feels caught out, and he inhales shakily before shrugging. He pulls the blanket over his shoulders and gets comfortable, and then sighs. "It's in my sock drawer."

Harry snorts. "Any particular reason why?"

"'Cause it feels weird wearing your stuff when you're here, like." He sighs again, because he knows he sounds insanely stupid, and he knows he's not telling Harry the complete truth, but the complete truth is stupid and embarrassing and he doesn't want to make Harry feel guilty. "I used to only wear your clothes when I was missing you super badly, like, more than usual, and wearing them while you're here feels wrong, somehow. Like, I'm jinxing it or something."

Harry's quiet for a moment, probably trying to figure out what the fuck Louis is on about. "But you're wearing one of my shirts now."

"It's different."

"How's that any different?"

"'Cause it is, Haz, I don't know." He smiles at him in the dark, and when he realizes Harry can't see it, he reaches out to grab his hand. Harry quickly intertwines their fingers. "I'll give it back to you tomorrow."

Harry squeezes his hand. "You don't have to. It's yours now. I was just wondering."

"H, it's one of your favorite shirts and it's stuck sitting next to my questionably clean socks. I'll give it to you tomorrow."

Harry laughs a little before scooting over in bed, getting closer to Louis. Once he's close enough to, Harry kisses the side of Louis' shoulder before resting his head there, his knees coming up to rest against Louis' waist. "Okay," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

Louis nods and mumbles out something that's supposed to be a 'you're welcome', before his eyes slip shut and sleep tries to do its work. He's about halfway under when he realizes that Penny's not in bed with them. 

"Where's Penny?" he asks, feeling groggy as he sits up a little. Harry laughs again and pushes his shoulders back down so he's laying down again. 

"She's under the blankets somewhere. Go to sleep, Lou."

And Louis does. Quickly, too. He didn't realize how tired he was until Harry cuddled up against him. 

The next morning, Harry pulls himself out of bed with Louis at five o'clock, which is abnormal. He makes Louis breakfast while Louis gets ready for work, and Louis doesn't question it because it's extremely likely that Harry just couldn't sleep, which is fine. Louis' learned not to stress over that. 

While Louis' eating his scrambled eggs and Harry's working on his puzzle across from him, Harry glances up at him tiredly. 

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

Harry shakes his head. "Figured out why you don't wanna wear my Ramones t-shirt," he says, and then sighs. "I figured it out, like, ten minutes after you fell asleep, and I didn't wanna wake you."

Louis just nods at him and sips his coffee. 

"I was wearing it the night before I went missing," Harry says, and Louis keeps nodding. He's not surprised Harry remembered, or at the very least figured it out. Harry's smart like that, and he knows Louis pretty fucking well. 

"That and Nike sweatpants," he murmurs, just because he can't help himself. He remembers Harry from that night vividly. Louis was drunk as fuck, stumbling inside the door, and Harry was laying in bed with his Ramones t-shirt, Nike sweat pants, and a pair of Louis' Adidas socks that were too small on him. He was reading a textbook.  _ Business Ethics _ . He was highlighting with a pink marker. Louis remembers, and he's always going to, because that was the last night he spent with Harry for six years, and he was stupidly drunk as fuck. 

Harry nods, and clicks together two puzzle pieces. He looks at Louis, eyes squinted a little. "How'd that day go down, then? The day I went missing? How'd you find out?"

Thinking about that day genuinely makes Louis feel sick to his stomach. It was one of the worst days of Louis' life, only being beaten by the 'funeral' they had for Harry. He pushes that feeling down and tries to concentrate, because Harry deserves to know how the world found out he vanished into thin air. 

"Niall called me freaking out," he murmurs, voice small. "He kept apologizing to me. He said that your bags were still there, and that your cell phone was a few feet away from it, but you were nowhere to be found. From there, I called your mom, and her and I drove over there to look around for you."

"Did you have a feeling it was serious?" Harry asks, completing focusing on him.

Louis nods. "I did. I really did. I could just, like, feel it. So could your mom. And then we filed a missing persons report, like, two hours after you went missing, even though the sheriff kept trying to convince us to wait twenty-four hours to do it." He takes a deep breath and shrugs, his shoulders feeling like jelly. "Ben got assigned to your case a few days after your disappearance, and that was it, really."

Harry frowns at him. "A few days? Why did they wait so long?"

"They were convinced you ran away," Louis grumbles, the anger he had felt then burning bright in his veins. "I had told them so many goddamn times that that was the stupidest thing I had ever heard, but the sheriff had it in his head that you were bored and just left." He sits back in his chair, shaking his head. "You know, your mom thought he was being uncooperative 'cause you were gay, and I never really agreed with her, but maybe she was right. I don't know."

Harry nods, and glances back down at the puzzle. He picks up a corner piece and turns it around a few times, staring at it intently. He’s thinking hard, and Louis’ not sure about what. Finally, Harry drops the piece back to the table and sighs, looks at Louis.

“You know,” he starts. “I always think about, like. What if I had been on the phone with you and not my mom, like – would I have been less distracted or something? I mean, when the people got out of their car and came towards me, I knew something bad was going to happen, I knew it. I could feel it in my gut. And I just froze. I didn’t run, I didn’t tell my mom what they looked like or what kind of car they drove, I just stood there. By the time I had shaken myself out of it, they already hung up my phone and tossed it to the side, and, like – I tried to fight them off, to stop them, but there was three of them and one of me, and – “ He sighs again, and shakes his head. “I always think about what I could have done differently. If I had been three feet leftwards, I would’ve been in the view of the cameras outside. If I had told my mom what was happening, they police would’ve taken it more seriously. If I had – if I had just trusted my gut and ran back inside, Lou, I would be fine right now. I’d be fine.”

He looks distressed, like he truly believes there was something he could have done. And maybe there was, Louis doesn’t know, he wasn’t there. He’s sure as hell not going to tell Harry that, and he’s not blaming him for anything, but he understands Harry’s perspective. What ifs drive people crazy, and that look of desperation in Harry’s eye is definitely a certain breed of crazy.

“I always think, like, what if none of it ever happened,” Harry whispers, a distant look on his face. “Would I be some fancy business man now? Or would I have taken the route of being an English teacher? How long would we stay in that apartment? God,” he looks horrified, “would we even still be together?”

“Of course we would be,” Louis’ quick to say, and he believes it wholeheartedly. Harry’s his person. It’s that simple.

“Would we? How do you know that?” Harry stands and goes over to the fridge to grab a water. He takes a sip of it, and while he’s capping it, he looks back to Louis. “You would’ve seriously waited on some stupid college kid to finish his degree? For two whole years? Think about that, Lou. That’s crazy. We were at completely different stages in our lives, and – “

“And we were doing fine,” he interrupts, kind of hurt. “We still loved each other like crazy, and I still would’ve loved you no matter how long you took in college. Don’t be so negative.”

“You would’ve found someone else,” Harry counters, looking fierce. “You would’ve found some rich dude with a big house and a fancy car who would’ve – he would’ve taken care of you, Louis, more than I could ever head. I was up to my neck in student loans – still am, by the way – and you would’ve gotten sick of waiting around and you would’ve found someone else.”

Louis furrows his eyebrows at him. “Who, Harry? Who would I have left you for? Because I loved you, and I still love you, and I wouldn’t have just left you like that because of something so stupid.”

Harry doesn’t respond at first. He’s quiet as he looks down at the counter, his lip being held between his teeth. He’s thinking again. After a second, he gives Louis this sad, heart-wrenching look. “You would’ve found someone, Louis. Someone like – some like Nick. Someone who could take care of you, someone – “

“Oh, don’t talk about Nick,” Louis grumbles, standing up. This is just annoying. And yes, he understands how shitty of a person he must be to call Harry’s insecurities annoying, but come on. This is ridiculous. “If this is about me finding someone else when you were gone, love, that – I got with Nick because I was sad and lonely and needed someone to hold me when I felt like the world was swallowing me up. To be honest, he’s not the type of person I would even give the time of day typically, you know that. But I was sad, and he was giving me the time of day, and – Harry, come on. Come on, baby. You’ve got to know I wouldn’t – and  _ won’t  _ – leave you for someone else.”

Harry stares at him, looking helpless.

“How did us talking about the day you went missing lead to you thinking I’m going to leave you?” Louis asks, confused. “I don’t understand.”

Harry huffs out a small breath and crosses his arms. “I couldn’t sleep last night. And I think a lot at night, and I – I don’t know. I’m sorry. For springing this all on you before you have to go to work.”

“You can’t honestly believe I’d leave you, H. After everything we’ve gone through together, you think I’d just. . . go? Because someone has more money than you? That’s so far from the truth.”

“I have a lot of baggage,” he mumbles, and Louis scoffs.

“And I had a fiancé, which, if you think about, is a fuck ton of baggage too.” He sighs and steps towards Harry. He’s not going to touch him, but he wants to be close to him right now. “Love, come on. I pretty much left Nick for you; what else can I do to show you that I’m not going to go back to him? Or leave you for anyone else?”

Harry mumbles something incoherent before shifting his weight on his feet and shrugging. “I guess I don’t actually think you would leave me. I’m just – I’m just insecure. And scared. About everything.” He gives Louis a small, shy smile. “Sometimes my brain convinces me of certain stuff, and even if I know deep down it’s fucking stupid, I have to hear you call it fucking stupid too.”

That pulls a laugh out of Louis. He leans forward and presses a brief kiss to Harry’s cheek. “It’s fucking stupid,” he whispers as he pulls away. He checks the clock on the wall and – shit. He has to leave right now if he doesn’t want to be late, and he doesn’t even have his lunch packed or his shoes on.

“Go, Lou,” Harry mumbles, still with a small smile. “I’m fine. Seriously. I’ll probably just sleep the entire time you’re gone.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Go. Don’t be late because of me.”

Louis kisses Harry’s other cheek quickly before pulling away again and rushing towards the door. He slings his bag on over his shoulder and shoves his shoes on without untying them, gives Penny a quick kiss on the head, and bolts out the door quickly.

The following night, Harry’s determined to eat inside of Wendy’s again, and Louis can’t tell who’s more nervous between the two of them.

It’s a huge step. Giant. It’s a motherfucking  _ leap _ . But Harry seems confident he can handle it. Anne wants to take them to the animal shelter the following week to pick out a cat for her, so that and Kelly’s words of wisdom at therapy today are combined to be Harry’s motivating force.

When they walk inside, he can tell Harry’s nervous. His hands are fidgety at his sides, and to try and soothe that, Louis grabs his hand. It makes Harry tense and he gives Louis a wary look.

“What if someone cares?” he whispers, voice barely audible. Someone walks in behind them, and Harry cringes as they walk passed him. He shuffles closer to Louis.

“Cares about what?” Louis asks, not realizing what Harry means, until – oh. Oh. “Harry, Christ. Nobody’s going to care that we’re gay. It’s 2019.”

“You can’t promise me no one will say something.”

Louis frowns at him and silently curses the world for being so cruel. Not only do they live in a place where people are sex trafficked, but they also are forced to deal with homophobia and racism and sexism and all that other shit old people bitch about. He squeezes Harry’s hand tightly.

“I can’t, no, but I can promise you we’ll immediately leave if you feel threatened, and that I won’t cause a scene even if I really want to.”

It makes Harry relax slightly, enough to grip Louis’ hand properly. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Try not to think about anyone about yourself,” he says, and presses a kiss to the back of Harry’s hand. Harry blushes and ducks his head, and it’s pretty much the cutest fucking thing Louis’ ever seen.

Louis orders for them both while Harry somewhat stands behind him. While they wait for their food, Louis tries not to watch Harry watch the door. Of course he’s going to be on high alert. Again: he was abducted from a highly populated, very public place like it was nothing. He’s never going to feel safe anywhere he ever goes.

They sit in a corner booth, Harry on the side where he can see the door and Louis on the other. At least, that’s how they start, before Harry asks him quietly to sit next to him so he feels less exposed. Louis does immediately, and Harry scoots closer to him so that their legs are touching.

“It’d be weird not to eat any food at a fast-food place, right?” Harry asks, trying to keep his tone light. He takes a sip of his Frosty and glances at the food. “I have, like, no appetite right now.”

Louis hooks his ankle around Harry’s and nudges him with his shoulder. “At least eat the fries. You can’t waste the fries.”

So Harry nibbles on the fries and drinks his milkshake while Louis talks about work. He tries not to let it get too quiet, because he notices Harry gets more uncomfortable when he can’t concentrate on Louis’ voice. When he runs out of things to talk about from work, he changes the topic.

“So, what kind of cat do you think your mom wants?”

Harry brightens up, and it’s in this moment that Louis decides they’re going to have about fifty cats when they get a house of their own. Their apartment only allows four animals in total, so fifty can’t happen yet, but Louis will make it happen, mark his words.

“I don’t know,” Harry says, shrugging. “She’s not looking for any specific breed or anything, so she’s just going to have to look around. She’ll probably want a girl though.”

“I’ve heard boy cats are so much nicer. Less moody.”

Harry gives him a look, and Louis is quick to defend himself. “Harry, I’m being serious. Look at Ellie. You seriously are trying to tell me she’s not moody as fuck?”

“She is just setting boundaries,” Harry denies, shaking his head.

Louis laughs at him and throws a French fry at Harry’s head. It feels a little forced, but the grin Harry gives him is anything but that. 

When they get home, Harry's breath stinks of french fries, and he's on a high. 

Everyone goes through highs and lows -- personally, Louis wakes up in shit moods for literally no reason all the time, and sometimes he wakes up just. . . happy -- but Harry's are a bit more explosive than that. When he's feeling good, when he's feeling really, really good, he's unstoppable. Well, he acts like he is, and then he remembers something or something happens that makes him immediately retreat back into his shell. And when Harry's feeling sad, well. That part's obvious. 

Since sometimes the two of them get stuck in all the sad, when Harry's so happy he's almost giddy with it, Louis feels like he's handling a different person, one that's unpredictable and fun and a little weirder than normal. Which -- is sad, when he thinks about it. So he tries not to. 

Harry's beaming with how proud of himself he is. He went outside, interacted with the real world, ate a meal in public and went home without any problems. Any. And he's riding the high of that, of feeling like he's just won the lottery when all Louis wants to do is tell him that this isn't luck, that he deserves this because he's worked so hard for it. 

They're kissing, laying in bed. Louis' laying on his back and Harry's half-over him, half-sitting on the bed. He usually lets Louis set the pace and take charge -- always has -- and Louis' purposefully kissing Harry has slow as possible because he knows Harry wants rough and dirty and maybe even tongue. (He sounds like a teenager, God.) But he's not going slow to be cautious or because he's worried, he's just doing it to be a tease because he can. Because, right now, their struggles and hardships have been stripped away, leaving just them. 

"You're starting to piss me off," Harry huffs against his lips. Louis just grins, and Harry grabs the back of his neck a little roughly so he can have some control. Louis lets him have it, and sure enough, Harry's tongue is pressing against Louis' mouth. 

Afterwards, Harry's happiness is a bit dampened, and Louis doesn't know what to say that Harry already doesn't know.

When they were kissing, it stayed mostly PG-13. And then Harry made this tiny, shaky noise, almost like a scared whimper, that threw Louis off. He didn't realize it was a small moan that escaped Harry until he had already pulled back, concerned, and Harry looked so, so fucking embarrassed. Louis tried to fix it quickly, but it was too late to brush off and ignore. And that's on him, really, but when Harry made that noise he didn't realize it was made out of pleasure instead of fear, and he was trying to make sure everything was fine. 

Louis wants to say something, anything, to fill the silence between them and to ease Harry's anxieties, but what can he say without sounding like an overbearing mother? It's natural? That's -- God, he can't say that. It's true, but Harry hates it when Louis talks to him like a child, so he can't say that. 

When the show they're watching in stilted silence goes to an ad break, Louis turns to Harry and sighs. "I don't -- can you please tell me where your head's at right now? Like, are you just embarrassed -- which you shouldn't be, God, please don't be -- are you, like, remembering things?"

Harry laughs, sad and empty. He looks so disappointed. "I feel like I made it weird," he mumbles, only looking to Louis briefly.

"No, H. You didn't. It wasn't weird."

"You  _ froze _ ."

"I didn't understand," he corrects softly. "I didn't -- I didn't know if it was a _ stop _ or _ keep going _ , I didn't -- I'm sorry. Seriously."

Harry doesn't say anything, just pulls on his bottom lip with his fingers. He's frustrated now, and Louis doesn't know if it's with himself or Louis. Louis sighs quietly and reaches over to run his finger over Harry's jawline. Harry turns into his hand, and Louis knows that this little fumble isn't going to ruin their night. 

"Why don't we go do your puzzle, hmm?" He rubs his thumb over Harry's cheekbone. "We can work on that, and I'll pull up Netflix and find some stupid reality show to watch while you make us hot cocoa."

"Only if we watched _ Nailed It _ ," Harry says quietly, and then he pulls himself out of bed and goes to the kitchen. Before he leaves, he sees a small, hopeful look on his face, and Louis knows their night together will be fine. 

And he's right: they finish their puzzle, and they drink their hot chocolate, and after too many episodes of  _ Nailed It _ , they find themselves trying to make a snowman out of dessert makings they have at home at two o'clock in the morning, while Penny watches, wondering what time they'll finally take her to bed.

Whenever Harry has nightmares, it always leaves them both scared. 

Harry's scared for obvious reasons; the traumas he has faced have boiled up to the surface and demanded to be felt. But for Louis, he's scared that this will be the one that sends Harry tumbling backwards, or that this will be one Harry won't be able to shake away for days, or that it's so bad that Harry won't let him touch. 

Tonight, after Louis coaxes a gasping, silently crying Harry awake gently, Harry blinks up at him sleepily, and then sighs. He rolls over on his side, facing away from Louis, and then grabs Louis' hand and brings it to his chest. It's a bit of an awkward position for Louis, but he doesn't say anything. 

"Time is it?" Harry mumbles, sounding like he's barely awake. So it must not have been a terrible dream; Louis can relax. 

"Uh," Louis glances at the clock, "one forty-nine."

Harry makes a small noise. "Okay. I'll probably be able to go back to sleep, then. Will you?"

"Yeah." Louis slots himself behind Harry and covers them back up properly, not that they need a blanket because Moose is back home and he's practically a heat furnace. Louis strokes a hand over Harry's tummy, under his shirt, because he's allowed to do that now. Harry closes his eyes again, and Louis doesn't and won't until he knows for sure Harry's fallen asleep again. 

"Do you think they're ever going to stop?" Harry asks, ten minutes later, in a small voice. He grabs Louis' hand, halting its movements so he can play with his fingers. His hand is still placed firmly against Harry's tummy, his pinky resting against the scar there. 

"What? Your nightmares?"

Harry nods. "Yeah. It's like -- I've had this one so many times. It's the same one over and over and over again, and, like, I don't even know why. Even Kelly can't figure out why I have it so much, especially since I'm so desensitized to it now."

Louis furrows his eyebrows. "Will you tell me what it's about? You don't have to, but -- "

"No, it's fine." Harry shifts a bit so he's pressed more firmly against Louis, and his fingers clutch around Louis' pointer finger like a child. "It's -- there's this woman. Her name was Genevieve. She was, like, a regular client, or whatever. Liked me a lot. And she -- " he snorts. "Let's just say women aren't more gentle than men."

Louis winces at the implication. Harry doesn't notice and continues. 

"In my dream, like. I'm with someone else, like, they're -- they're, um, they're -- "

Raping him. They're raping him. "You don't have to say it. I know what you mean."

"Okay, well. They're doing that, and she comes in, and, like. She tells me she's pregnant, and that it's mine, but she's not keeping it and, like, it's just so weird. I don't -- Kelly thinks I'm, like, subconsciously wondering if I ever got someone pregnant, but, like. I don't know why it sticks with me still. It's the same exact thing, over and over and over again."

Louis feels sick. Genuinely ill. He hates when Harry so casually opens up new questions for Louis to wonder about endlessly. He never thought about the possibility of Harry getting someone pregnant. He never he thought about Harry being raped by  _ women, _ which -- fucking hell. But it's a rationale question to have. Most wouldn't bother will condoms when they're raping someone, especially when they don't have to be cautious about it. And then Louis' wondering what Harry meant about women being less gentle, wondering what that means. He knows what it means, but -- what exactly has Harry gone through? He'll never know. And he's glad he won't, but -- the scar on his belly, is that from this Genevieve lady? Is that the type of thing you ask someone? No, it's not, is it, so -- 

"But do you think they'll ever go away?" Harry asks again, snapping Louis back into reality. "Not that dream specifically. Just, in general, do you think my nightmares will ever stop?"

And, well. That's not a hard question. "No," Louis admits truthfully. He presses a kiss to Harry's shoulder to apologize. "I think they'll become less frequent over time, but I don't think they'll ever fully go away."

Harry snorts. He doesn't sound offended, which is good. "Maybe I'll be lucky and get dementia. Forget about all this shit."

"Don't joke about that," Louis whispers, oddly scared by that. He doesn't want Harry getting old. Either of them. He wants them to stay like this forever, young and in love and remembering each other. 

"You're right, sorry," Harry mumbles. He finally lets go over Louis' finger and Louis goes back to stroking over his stomach. Over the tops of the laurels that are there, over the scar, over the hair beneath his navel. Harry grabs his hand again after a few moments. "I'd never forget you, Louis."

Louis hums and shakes his head. "You don't know that."

"No, I'm serious." Harry turns just enough so Louis can see his face, see his grin. "My great aunt -- you remember her, Great Aunt Dina -- she had dementia and never, ever forgot her ex-husband. Ever. Every single time he visited her, she'd just go off about what a dickhead he was, about how he never cooked or cleaned or took care of the kids. I remember -- I think I was, like, seven -- and she was dying, like. She died a week later, I'm pretty sure. And he was cleaning off a food tray for her, and I was sitting in her lap -- she didn't even know who I was, she kept calling me Jimmy -- and she squeezed me real tight and told me that that was the only time she'd ever seen him clean, and that hell had surely frozen over."

Louis laughs, a little thrown off that Harry remembers that so clearly, and shakes his head at him again. He presses a chaste kiss to Harry's lips and pulls him closer. "It's almost two in the morning, H. Maybe if you go to bed now, you'll dream about that instead."

Harry lays his head back on the bed and sighs quietly. "Doubt it," he whispers, kind of sad. Louis squeezes him tightly, trying to absorb the sadness out of him even though he knows it's not possible. 

It takes Harry thirteen minutes to fall asleep, and when Louis wakes up to pee three hours later, Harry's sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a puzzle, and whispering quietly to Ellie.

Neither Anne or Louis realized that taking Harry to an animal shelter filled to the brim with cats just wanting loving homes would be a bad idea. Not bad as in bad bad, just bad in the sense that Harry wants them  _ all _ .

He wants to scoop every single one of them out of their cages, stuff them in a sack, and take them home. Every single one, Louis can see in it in his face. Each time they pay a new cage, Harry has to stop and pet the cat for a least three minutes while he rattles off all the reasons this one should be the cat for Anne. Anne and Louis quickly abandon Harry and stick him with Robin, because Anne actually wants to look and see without Harry stopping every two seconds and hearing about every cat's life story.

Louis' not going to lie; seeing all these innocent cats sitting in steel cages makes his heart fucking bleed. He wants to take them all home too, but he's at least rationale enough to realize that it's not possible. He wishes he could love them all, but he can't. 

"I think I quite like this one," Anne says, pointing to a calico cat named Jax. She brings her hand up to the cage and Zoe hesitantly sniffs at her. Once she's done, she just peers up at Anne with piercing green eyes, completely calm. According to her little info sheet, she's six, and all she really wants is someone to cuddle up with. She'd be good for Anne and Robin. 

After a few minutes of watching Zoe and Anne bond, Louis leaves her to find Robin and Harry so he can tell them that he's pretty sure they've found the one. He walks passed the miles and miles of cats in cages before he bumps into them, and when Harry turns around as has a cat in his arms, Louis immediately sighs. 

Harry's fucking beaming. "Her name's Sully," Harry tells him, positively glowing. Robin looks both amused and a little overwhelmed. "Like from Monster's Inc.? They named her that 'cause she's so fat." He motions to her like Louis hasn't already take note of her roundness. She has short, orange fur with soft hazel eyes. Harry's got her in a cradle in his arms like she's a baby, and Louis, immediately and fully, that he's fucked with this one. He accepts it fairly quickly. 

"H, your mom already found -- "

"Oh, but nooo, look at her face, Lou." Harry comes closer and shit. She is really fucking cute. She's got a mixture of Penny's glow of innocence, but Louis knows it's all a facade because she's also got that aura of  _ you'll only touch me when I want you to touch me, so back off or I'll bite you _ . 

"She likes toys," Harry tries, grabbing a jingly toy with a bell on it from Robin's hand. He shakes it in front of her and her ears immediately perk up and she starts squirming in his arms. "They said I can't put her down, but she does. Look." He keeps jingling it, and after a few seconds, Louis laughs and grabs his wrists. 

"Okay, okay. I get it. She likes annoying things. But love, your mom already found one she's connected with."

Harry pouts, holds Sully to his chest like he's offended them. "But  _ Sully _ ."

Louis sighs and reaches over to pat Harry's cheek. "You haven't even met Jax."

"But  _ Sully. _ "

"Jesus, Haz," Louis laughs, shaking his head at him fondly. He's persistent, Louis'll give him that.

After too many minutes of convincing Harry to put Sully back in her cage, they finally get back to Anne, who's now in a closed-off room where she's playing with Jax. Well, playing is a strong term; Jax is mostly just watching intently as Anne wags the toy back and forth. 

When the lady at the shelter tells Anne what a sweet girl Jax is and how her last owners surrendered her because they stopped being able to take care of her, Harry comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Louis' middle, hooking his chin over his shoulder. 

"She's totally not going to go for Sully, is she?" Harry whispers into his ear, and Louis shakes his head and pats his hand. 

"Sorry, love. Doesn't look like it."

And it makes Harry genuinely upset that Sully's not going to get a home today. He tries not to let it show, probably because he realizes how it's a teeny bit ridiculous to get so attached to a cat so quickly, but Louis can tell he's sad. When he plays with Jax and tells her  _ yeah, she seems like a good fit _ , it's with halfhearted motions and forced words. He wants Sully, and goddammit, then he's going to get Sully. 

Louis' already accepted this, and he already slipped the woman at the shelter a note to not let Sully get adopted yet, and fuck, their apartment is going to be a zoo. Three cats, a dog, and two humans in a medium-sized apartment is a  _ zoo _ . They're going to be called _ cat ladies _ . And now Louis' going to get shit from both Ellie  _ and _ Sully -- they're going to team up against him -- Louis can just tell. 

But Harry wants her. He wants her desperately. And maybe Louis shouldn’t get him everything he wants, but you know fucking what? Louis comes home the next day with Sully in a box anyway, because no, it won't fix anything, but it makes Harry so goddamn happy right now that it doesn't even matter. 

As Sully gets fatter and fatter, Harry gets better and better. 

Louis' not delusional; those two things aren't directly correlated. Harry's been doing better the last two months or so, the best he's been, before they even got Sully, and Sully's just fat. Fat enough that Louis has spoken to the vet and they've both agreed that she's going to need to be put on a diet before she becomes legitimately obese. He's not sure how to break the news to Harry yet. 

They've had Sully for about a month now, and she's fit right in. She mostly runs with Ellie, and she can sometimes get a little too rough with Moose. She's trying to play -- it's not malicious at all -- but she doesn't exactly understand how to play with a sixty pound, slobbering blob of dog. Other than that, she cuddles with them at night, she poops in her kitty litter box, and she doesn't pee all over his clothes, and that's all Louis really looks for in cat. 

It's not all good, because that'd be too easy, wouldn't it. Sometime last weekend, Harry had an anxiety attack that lasted for literal hours after watching the news. He still hasn't told Louis what story they covered that sent him so far over the edge, but Louis doesn't need to know the specifics. And he and Louis got in an argument last night, a full-blown, loud argument that left them both breathless and teary-eyed. It started off with Harry trying to pester Louis into quitting his job, and then Louis got super defensive and snapped at him. It spiraled from there. It somehow got morphed into Louis claiming that Harry isn't getting out of the house enough (which is true, he doesn't, but Louis had meant to bring them up to him more gently), and then Harry had argued that Louis pushes him too much. It lasted nearly a half-hour, and it ended when Louis had finally thrown his hands up and gave up. Which then lead to Harry bawling because he felt bad, which -- Louis' just glad they don't argue often. 

Besides that, and two or three nightmares sprinkled in there, things have been good. 

When he comes home from work, he's greeting by Sully screaming at him (a quirk of hers, screaming to get whatever she wants) and Moose doing his excited little tippy-taps. He pets them both, and then goes over to the couch to pet Penny, before finally getting to Ellie, who's sitting on the kitchen table. He's scratching behind her ears when the bathroom door opens and Harry emerges, cheeks flushed. 

He has a towel wrapped around his body like a woman would rather than a man, and his hair is sopping wet. He has a firm arm over his chest, probably to secure the towel, and he sighs at Louis. 

"Thought you were a murderer at first," he murmurs. 

Louis furrows his eyebrows and stops petting Ellie. "Love, if you think there's a murderer in the apartment, don't come out of the locked bathroom in a towel with no weapon."

Harry makes a face at him and sticks his tongue out. "I said at first, idiot. I checked the time and saw your text that you were on your way home." He tells Louis he's going to go get changed, and Louis nods, just relieved that their fight from last night isn't going to bleed into today. They talked about it before they went to bed, they did, but Louis was still worried anyway.

When Harry comes back, he's wearing jeans, his Ramones t-shirt, and tennis shoes. Louis looks him over once and is mildly confused. "Do you have plans tonight?" Maybe he has a later therapy appointment Louis forgot about, or plans with his mom or something. 

Harry shakes his head. "Thought we could go out for a walk."

Louis sighs, coming over to Harry. He pulls him into his chest and presses a kiss to his head, squeezing him tightly. "If this is about what I said last night, baby, I'm sorry. You don't have to go out if you don't want to, I just meant -- "

"No," Harry interrupts. "You're right. Kelly's been saying the same thing for months."

Louis pulls back. "She has?"

"Yeah. She thought that after I ate at Wendy's, I'd have the confidence to go out again, but, like." He bites on his bottom lip and shrugs. "I still don't. And she wants my next step to be going out to eat with you and our friends, and I really, really don't think I'm ready for that, but I -- " he exhales loudly. "I can handle a walk. I like walks."

Moose jumps up as soon as the word 'walk' first leaves Harry's lips, his tail going a million miles an hour and his eyes wide in anticipation. Louis smiles down at him, and then looks to Harry. "Well, I guess we don't really have a choice now, do we?"

Moose somehow wags his tail harder, telling them that no, no they don't.

Their walk is relaxing. 

Harry's got a tight grip on Moose's leash in one hand and Louis' hand in the other, and he seems content as they walk. There's no anxiety radiating off him of him like mad like there was the last time they went for a walk. Perhaps it's because they're just walking around their apartment complex. If that's true, that'd mean Harry feels genuinely, completely safe here, which melts Louis' heart with adoration and love. He loves Harry so goddamn much sometimes it's not even funny. 

"Elijah's one next week," Harry says conversationally, because, yes, they finally figured out when exactly the kid was born. "Liam sent me a cute picture the other day of him sleeping. He's a cute kid."

"Yeah, well. He's got cute parents."

Harry smiles, his dimple poking through. He looks down at Moose, who's panting with his tongue flopping out and trotting happily. He reaches down to pet him, and Moose turns his head to look at him, looking beyond happy. Maybe the three of them need to work this into their daily routine. 

"Could we -- " Harry stops, and then starts again. "Could we maybe see if there was a day the five of us could get together again? We could -- we could do it at Niall's again, or we could do it here. They can meet Sully, and the rest of them can meet Penny. I was, um. I was hoping we could do it before Elijah's birthday party? Because I don't -- I don't think I'm going to go to that."

His hand goes clammy in Louis' and Louis squeezes it softly, trying to soothe him. "That's fine if you don't want to go. He's one; he won't remember."

Quietly, Harry says, "Liam will. Jillian will. They named their child after me."

"H -- "

"No, I know," he interrupts, giving Louis an honest smile. "I know they'll understand, I know they won't care much. I know it'll probably less stressful for everyone involved if I don't go. I just -- " he sighs, and shrugs. "I don't know. I. . . don't know. I'm -- " he voice gets a little thick, "I think I'm, like, content with where I am right now? Um. If I -- if I never got better than this, I don't think I'd hate it. I don't think I'd be miserable. I. . . I still have some things to work on, some things I hope I can fix, but if I can't, like." He takes a deep breath. His eyes are wet. "I think I'll be able to live with that."

Tears leap to flood Louis' eyes and a lump forms his throat. This is the same person who was so close to giving up on himself entirely less than a year and a half ago. It's the same person who had clung to Louis and told him that he was never going to get any better, that he couldn't do it, that he'd been broken for too long to be fixed. _ I'm stuck like this _ . He said that, _ I'm stuck like this _ . And he believed it wholeheartedly, and maybe they all did for a second too. But he overcame that, he fucking fought it, and here he is, saying he's content with life right now. Content isn't happy, but it's also not severely depressed or hopeless or wishing he never came back. Content can get them to happy, and if it doesn't, if this is the version of Harry that sticks, Louis will be able to live with it too. Happily. 

"I think I'm ready to go home," Harry whispers. He hasn't let the tears fall. He's not going to cry, not when it feels like that's all he's done for months. Happy tears or not, he won't them fall. 

Louis, though. Louis can help it. 

"Okay," he whispers back, tears blurring his vision. It's okay; he doesn't need to see Harry right now, he knows he's okay. He doesn't need proof of it anymore. "Let's go home."

Their friend-gathering turns into an impromptu celebration for Harry's birthday. Except for that it's really a celebration for his return, but since Harry's already somewhat uncomfortable with being the center of attention, they go with the first thing. 

It was Niall's idea, apparently. And that's double-impressive because Niall never has good ideas. He mentioned to Zayn and Liam when Louis first invited them over that he was bringing a gift for Harry -- too many cat toys, a few books with covers so pretentious Louis knows he's not going to know how to say any of the words in it, and two puzzles -- which then immediately guilted the other two into getting something for him as well. 

Liam got him some more baking equipment they don't have cabinet room for. Pastry brushes and whisks and a cute pair of matching oven mitts with cats on them. (So yes, if the fat cat on Louis' lap wasn't a strong enough indicator that they are now officially cat ladies, those mittens and how happy they make him are all he needs.) He also gets them a few baking books, which will prove useful. As helpful as YouTube can be, it can also be very not. And on top of that, he adds in a dozen or so vintage Rolling Stones articles and a few vintage fashion magazines. That makes Louis a bit dizzy, because he knows those must've been expensive. 

And Zayn, the most emotionally stunted after Louis, nearly makes Harry cry with his gifts. It's not even anything too fancy, it's just -- very thoughtful. 

The first gift is a sleek sky blue journal with a silver bird in flight imprinted on the cover. It's simple and straight-forward, which is very Zayn. He hands it to Harry, and Harry takes it with hesitant hands. He pets the top of Ellie's head from where she's tucked into the side of his thigh. Penny's laying on the arm of the couch near Zayn, and Moose is getting pets from Liam. 

"Louis mentioned you don't really feel very comfortable with writing just yet, so, I, uh," he reaches forward and opens to a random page, "put some doodles in the corner of every page. Just so, like. I don't know. If you don't get back around to writing, it's not a total waste?" He looks unsure as Harry flips through a few pages.  _ Zap! _ is written in bold blue and red ink on the top right corner of one. There's a simple doodle of a cat on another, and some pretty-looking flowers on the next. There's a section in the back of the book, the last twenty pages or so, where if you flip really fast, it looks like a bird flying higher and higher and higher. On the second to last page, the bird sits next to another bird. On the last, there's now five birds. 

Louis looks to Zayn, who looks incredibly embarrassed. "It's cliche, but, like. I don't know. Thought it looked cool."

"It does," Harry says immediately, and then quickly after, "I mean, like. It's not cliche, I don't think. I think it's -- I think it's nice. And it does look cool. It's looks -- it looks really cool. Thank you."

And as if that wasn't enough, as if that didn't take Zayn enough time, he says he has to run to his car really quick to go grab the second part of his gift. Which, of course, it's just as creative and artistically breathtaking. 

It's a painting, a large painting. It's of Ellie, Sully, Penny and Moose. Penny's in the front center, sitting, eyes painted as beautiful as they are in real life. Ellie's sitting next to her, while Sully is laying down on the other side of Penny. She looks. . . Well, let's just say Zayn managed to capture her plumpness in a flattering light. Moose is lying behind him, his floppy jowls punctuated heavily. 

It makes the majority of them speechless. Niall, on the other hand, doesn't do silence. 

"What the  _ fuck _ , Malik," he says, standing to examine it closer. "You could've fuckin' told us you were gonna bring Picasso back from the dead for Haz's present. Could've given us a warning. I would've bought him, like, another cat or something."

"God, no, not another," Louis hears himself say, but he doesn't remember thinking it until it's already out of his mouth. He's that stunned, and so is Harry. 

"This must've taken you ages, man," Liam says, standing next to Niall. Zayn's standing behind the canvas, holding it steady so they can all admire it. "How'd you do this so fast? Niall came up with the idea of getting Harry gifts barely over a week ago."

Niall puts his hands on his hips. "Yeah. Don't you have a job?"

"This  _ is _ my job, you fuckhead," Zayn laughs, shaking his head. He looks a bit more confident now, their adoration and astonishment fueling his confidence. 

Niall narrows his eyes at him playfully. "Well, that's cheating. I own, like, three bars, but I couldn't exactly just give Harold here a wine cooler, could I?" He gives Harry a look, and Harry laughs, shakes his head. 

"I don't drink," he reminds, and Louis doesn't realize that Niall's trying to take the pressure off of Harry until now. He's distracting Harry, distracting them all, in order to give him time to process just how goddamn much his friends love him. 

After Harry regains his footing after being so overwhelmed, they order pizza and rent a movie on the TV.  _ This is the End _ , which Louis had watched with Nick a while back while they were high as fuck and he remembers being beyond entertained. They're not high, although the other three do plan on getting somewhat buzzed. 

Louis' in the kitchen grabbing another slice of pizza for him and Harry when Niall comes up next to him, an empty plate in one hand and a beer in another. Louis grabs a small piece for himself and sets it on his plate. "You know," he mumbles, trying to get the cheese that fell off, "I asked you approximately two seconds before this if you wanted another slice and you said no."

"I know. I wanted to talk to you."

Louis glances at him again, giving him a weird look. "Alright," he mumbles, grabbing a slice for Harry. He wipes off the grease from his hands on his pants, and crosses the kitchen to grab the Pepsi from the fridge. He returns back to the counter Niall's standing in front of, and Niall gives him this soft smile. 

"We're all really proud of you, Lou," he says earnestly. "And we're super, super grateful and appreciative of what you've done for Harry."

This is weird. Niall doesn't do serious, and he's being very, very serious right now. 

"He's my boyfriend," Louis says, like that makes it easy. It doesn't. It wouldn't matter if Harry was his boyfriend or his friend; the panic attacks still would've stung the same, the nightmares would still hurt his heart just as much, the depression would've made him want to hide Harry from the world the same. 

Niall nods at him once. "I know. But he wasn't at first, and you still cared for him. You still tried your hardest to heal him."

"I didn't heal him, he did that himself."

"Give yourself some credit," he objects, shaking his head. He motions to the living room, to Harry who's sitting in-between Zayn and Liam and laughing loudly about whatever Zayn's saying. Moose's head is in his lap and he's petting him. "That person is not the same person I watched movies with the first week he was back home. That's not who I talked to on the phone with the morning you broke things off with Nick. And we all believe, all of us, that that person would not exist if it wasn't for you."

Louis doesn't respond. He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything and refills Harry's cup. 

"I'll stop, 'cause I can tell I'm about to give you an aneurysm, but, like." He claps a hand over Louis' shoulder and squeezes. "I just wanted to make sure I thanked you for getting him back to us. For showing him that the world isn't as dark as he thought it was. For being so fucking good that I don't have to worry about him."

Louis just gives him a thin smile. Niall rolls his eyes and reaches forward to ruffle his hair, which leads to Louis shoving him off and spilling the Pepsi and Niall laughing so hard that he forgets about the spilled drink on the floor and nearly face-plants when he slips on it. The serious moment is passed -- thank God -- but it doesn't stop lingering in Louis' thoughts. The movie's on, and Harry's under his arm, his cheek squished against his collarbones, and all he can think about is that Harry's not the only one who's changed. 

Now that there isn't this weight tied to his foot, now that Harry's back and Louis know he is safe, he's different. 

He can't remember the last time he got black-out drunk the night before work, let alone even had a sip of beer. He's calmer now. Happier. He doesn't watch the news with his breath held anymore. He has two more cats, who've made him more loving and soft, and an apartment that he's paid for one-hundred percent by himself. He and Harry had split rent for their first apartment, and Nick had paid the overwhelming majority of the house bills. He's been looking into new jobs lately, ones that make his heart happy, ones in which he can make a difference. He wakes up ready for whatever the day has to bring, goes to bed knowing he did his best. Guilt doesn't consume him anymore. The bottom of the world doesn't fall out when Anne calls. Most importantly, though, he's got the love of his life next to him again who's made him a kinder, more patient person than he's ever been. His heart has about tripled in size since Harry's return. 

And no, his little changes aren't anything to compare to Harry's, but they still are there. They're still a part of him. 

At three-forty seven in the morning a few days later, soft hands shake him awake. 

He's exhausted. Elijah's first birthday party was today, and Louis somehow got roped into being the one to watch all the children that were dragged along to the party. His calves are sore from running, and his arms are sore from breaking the pinata open, and he swears that he can still smell baby puke on him. 

Still, he miraculously musters the strength to open his eyes and pay attention to Harry, who's sitting next to him in bed, looking down at him. "You alright?" Louis asks tiredly, reaching over to put a hand on Harry's knee. Harry leans down and presses a kiss to Louis' nose. 

"'m fine. I just can't sleep." He lays back down in bed, snuggling against Louis, who automatically wraps his arm around him. Harry hums, and sighs softly. "Sorry for waking you. But you have the day off tomorrow, and we're going over to my parents for breakfast; I didn't wanna be a zombie all day."

Louis makes a noise low in the back of his throat. Words are sticking to the sides of his brain, and his mind's too tired to put them together quickly. "Want me to read to you?" he asks, already going to reach for the book --  _ Life of Pi  _ \-- on his bed stand. Harry swats his arm down and tells him no, that it's too early for that. 

"Want me to rub your back, then?"

Harry nods easily before turning over on his side. He kicks Moose in the process, and he doesn't even react. He's tired too, apparently. Harry whispers an apology to him anyway. 

Louis starts to lazily rub his back. He's mostly just running his fingers halfheartedly down Harry's back, under his shirt, as he tries to wake up a little. If Harry minds, he doesn't mention it. 

He doesn't realize his half-asleep again until Harry says, "I had a nightmare." He sounds a bit shaky about it, like he's hesitant to even tell Louis about it, which immediately spikes worry in his belly, thus waking him. Louis immediately grabs Harry's hand and presses a few kisses to the back of it before setting it down and going back to making shapes on Harry's back. 

"A bad one?"

Harry shakes his head. "No. Not really. It was -- it probably would've been bad, if I hadn't woken up before anything really happened." He shifts so his hands are laying flat against his cheek, probably trying to get more comfortable. "But, um. They, like -- people came here to come get me. I opened the door and I saw them and I just -- I woke up almost immediately. Think it was too close to home for my mind to entertain."

Louis listens intently, and once Harry's finished, he sets his hand flat on Harry's spine and presses a kiss to the back of his neck. It makes him shiver. "You're here with me," he whispers, moving his hand again. 

Harry nods once. "I know."

"You're here with me, in our apartment, safe."

He nods again. "I'm safe," he repeats, and he sounds a little unsure about it. "Nobody even knows I live here. Nobody's going to come here."

"You're safe," Louis says again. "You're here, and you're safe. You have me, and you have the cats, and you have Moose, and we're all safe too. We're all going to be fine. And you're. . . you're happy?" He didn't mean for it to come out as question -- he's trying to be reassuring here -- but it comes out as one anyway. 

It doesn't take more than half a second for Harry to respond. "Yeah," he says, turning his head to look at Louis as best he can with the way he's laying. Louis can make a flash of white out in the dark; he's smiling. "I'm happy," he whispers. "I'm really, really fucking happy."

"Good, H. That's incredible to hear. So you're safe, and you’re happy, and we're all safe and happy too. Try not to think about anything else. too. 

It takes Harry about ten minutes to fall asleep, and once he does, Louis just keeps laying there, stroking his back softly. He's still exhausted, and sleep is calling his name, but it's hard to sleep when all he can think about is Harry finally getting the life he deserves. Good things are finally coming his way, and he's finally,  _ finally _ almost completely standing in the light.


	6. epilogue

_ Ten years later.  _

“God, Louis, you’re almost  _ forty _ .”

Louis scoffs and glances up from the brownie mix he’s stirring to look at Harry, unimpressed. Harry’s perched up on their dining room table, grinning at him. “You’re not that far off, you know.”

He goes back to stirring the brownie mix, and smiles to himself when he hears Harry begin to protest. “That’s not true. Thirty-seven is  _ very  _ far away from forty.”

“Is it?” Louis asks. He rolls his eyes fondly before glancing down at Moose, who’s lying quietly by his feet, waiting for some food to fall. Like always, Louis’ stomach twists uncomfortably as he looks down at Moose. He’s an old dog, and he’s starting to look it, too; Louis can’t help looking at him and thinking  _ shit, Harry’s going to be destroyed when you die. _ It’s so morbid to think, and he hates that he does it, but it’s true. Harry still doesn’t handle big changes well, and Louis will be heartbroken over Moose’s death, but Harry. . . it’ll just be really bad. Louis just has to be thankful that Moose is still healthy, apart from some moderate arthritis in his joints, and that the cats are still going strong as well. 

Louis mixes it for about another minute before he turns to Harry. “Want to finish this off, then? Give this old man some time to sit down?” He doesn’t wait for Harry to answer before he sits down at the dining table, which earns a melodramatic sigh from Harry, who jumps off the table and goes over to take Louis’ previous position. 

“You’re dad is very rude,” Harry whispers to Moose, before grabbing him a treat and giving it to him. He takes his time petting Moose’ head, and Louis wonders if he thinks the same thing, too. 

“You’re the one who offered to make brownies for Elijah’s game,” Louis reminds him, to which Harry just shrugs. 

“I know,” he says. “It’s probably better that I do it, anyway. I mean, if we want them to taste good.”

Louis laughs loudly at that as he watches Harry add more butter, even though Louis already completed that step. He doesn’t say anything and just grins. 

They’re one of the first to arrive at Elijah’s basketball game, like usual. It’s part of the requirements Harry has about coming here: they arrive first so they can get the bleachers closest to the doors in case he needs a quick exit and so he can easily see who is coming in and going out, he sits on the edge and Louis sits next to him, if Louis has to get up to go to the bathroom or grab a snack, Harry has to come with him, and they have to leave fifteen minutes early. That way, they’ll beat the rush of people; crowds make Harry incredibly anxious, and when there’s a lot of people moving around at once, he can’t handle it. 

Louis doesn’t mind any of it. They have been able to go to every one of Elijah’s basketball games except one -- their surrogate invited them to the doctor’s appointment where she was going to find out the gender of the baby -- and it’s almost already the end of the season. 

As soon as Elijah spots Harry, he grins and runs from the court where him and the rest of the boys are supposed to be warming up. He comes with his friend Xavier, and when they’re close enough, Elijah reaches out to grab the brownies. 

He doesn’t even have the lid off before Jillian is coming over and grabbing the container from him. She rolls her eyes at him fondly and runs her hand over his light brown hair. “These are for after the game, you know that. Now get back out there before Coach Pat notices you left.”

Elijah and Xavier both groan dramatically before running back to their positions, both a blur of red uniforms. 

Jillian sits next to Louis, and the two of them fall into conversation easily. Harry mostly stays silent, watching the boys practice. He’s been quieter these last few months. 

“And how is Emma doing?” Jillian asks, her smile widening. “Isn’t she entering her seventh month soon?”

Louis nods, and like every other time someone brings up their surrogate Emma or their soon to be baby girl --  _ girl _ , they’re having a little girl -- his stomach fills with butterflies and his veins with excitement. Harry, however, immediately retreats farther back into his shell. He squeezes Louis’ hand painfully tight, he coughs quietly and sniffles -- both of which he does when he’s nervous, some sort of habit Louis doesn’t understand -- and shifts closer to Louis. He doesn’t like talking about the pregnancy, or Emma, or their baby. He can’t handle it. 

It’s not like he’s not excited, because he is. He just wants her now; he doesn’t like this waiting game, or the unpredictability that is pregnancy. As soon as the third month rolled around and Harry was already regressing so far back into his anxiety, Louis had promised him that if they were to have another kid, it’d be through adoption. He should’ve realized nine months of stress and questions would’ve been Harry’s biggest nightmare, but neither of them thought it would be an issue. Harry’s gotten better with this type of stuff.

And it doesn’t help that the baby is a girl. Again, it’s not that Harry would change any of it, because he loves her so, so much already, it’s just -- it’s not secret females are more vulnerable to sexual assault, and that terrifies Harry. It petrifies him, the idea of their child going through anything close to what he had to. Louis has told him time and time again that the only thing they can do about that is to protect her and love her, but it never does anything to soothe his fears.  _ You don’t know the kinds of people that are out there, Louis.  _

“Yeah, she’s at the seven month mark now,” Louis answers Jillian. He squeezes Harry’s hand back just as tightly. “She’s at that stage now where she just wants it over with. She’s not able to do as much at work as she used to, and that’s pissing her off royally.”

“She’s close, though. Only two more months.”

Louis nods, not being able to stop his smile. Harry has to take a deep breath and reaches a shaky hand to hold onto Louis’ arm. 

At home the following day, Harry is sitting at the dining room table grading papers. A few years ago, he went back to their original university and re-enrolled. He got a teaching degree in English only two and a half years ago, and he’s already an online professor at their university. Both he and Louis are fully aware that some special treatment was involved on the university's part, but neither of them care. Harry deserves some special treatment. He worked damn hard for his degree, put in twice the effort most people have to, and his professors saw that and knew what he’s been through; he was offered a job immediately before he even graduated. 

Louis, on the other hand, stayed in social work. He quit his old job years ago, and has been working at an office nearby as a case manager. He helps people -- usually teens -- with their problems by advising them on what to do next and helping them outline their treatment plan. He’s one of two case managers at his office, which is a good thing, because he has to hand over cases too close to Harry’s over to his coworker. 

There had been a young girl once, fifteen years old, who had been raped by her uncle, and Louis could not handle it. He forced himself to, for her sake, but he couldn’t do it again. Everything she said, Harry had said to him at one point or another, and that was too much to handle, so he explained the situation to his boss and she understood. ‘

Both Harry and Louis have agreed that once the baby came, it would probably be in everyone’s best interest if Harry continued to work while Louis took some time off from work and stayed at home. Harry works from home, anyway, so it’s not like he won’t be helping, it’s just -- he’ll have a distraction, and he’ll have Louis there to make everything seem less overwhelming. Louis trusts Harry wholeheartedly, but he can’t imagine leaving Harry alone all day with a newborn baby. He’d never do that to him. 

Louis, who is sitting on the couch watching TV quietly, gets a text from Emma letting them know that her appointment today went well and that she and the baby are perfectly healthy. 

_ Due date is still December 29th _ , she says, and that makes Louis smile. 

He updates Harry, who gives him a gentle smile from the table. The only times he outwardly shows his excitement is when it’s just him and Louis, alone. He’s afraid of jinxing it, for some reason, and he thinks saying he is excited out loud will lead to something terrible. Louis has tried to unwind Harry’s mind, but lately, it’s no use. The only thing that’ll untangle Harry’s brain from all this panic is having their baby girl in his arms, safe. 

“She’s going to be a winter baby,” Harry whispers. He says it like it’s a secret, even though they’ve known this for the last seven months. “Like you,” he adds, and his smile widens. 

“And you. February is still winter.”

Harry hums quietly and fiddles with the papers in front of him. “Winter’s going to be fun, when she’s here. Our wedding anniversary, and then your birthday and Christmas Eve. . . Christmas. Her birthday. New Years. My birthday.” He shrugs a little and glances at Louis. “It’s going to be nice.”

Louis proposed to Harry on December first, and if it had been anyone other than Harry, they would’ve found the proposal completely underwhelming and probably would have said no.

It was just the two of them in their background, huddled up in front of a tiny fire they made. They had talked about it extensively before -- surprises and Harry’s anxiety clash heavily -- and Harry made it loud and clear that he did want it to happen in front of an audience of any size. The only audience they had was Moose, and Louis is still certain that he was pissing only a few feet away when Louis had popped the question. 

Harry said yes immediately, and he cried for an hour straight afterwards. Four days later, the first day in winter they woke up and saw snow on the ground, they went down to the courthouse and made it official. 

“This is the closest thing I can give you to a winter wedding,” Harry whispered to him, a little guilty. Harry didn’t want an official wedding, and the only sort of reception they had is their families and close friends coming over for two hours to celebrate.

“I just wish she would get here already,” Harry says tiredly. “It’s been forever.”

“Soon, love. Soon.”

It took them over four years to have sex. 

They had spent their first two years together just making out and occasionally humping each other like awkward teenagers, and Louis was entirely okay with it. Harry still had an unhealthy relationship with his body, and he still struggled to get hard and stay hard. By the end of the second year, he had managed for the first time since he was back to reach an orgasm. He was by himself in the shower, and it took him almost an hour, and he vomited afterwards, but he still did it. He still took it as a win, even when he was sat trembling in Louis’ arms for three hours straight that night. 

It gave him the courage to introduce hand jobs to the equation. They were few and far between, and it was. . . a process. At first, only Louis got to do the touching. Harry has a huge, huge problem with feeling like he’s servicing someone else sexually, because it brings up all the times he had to do that without any choice. The first time they did anything like that, it was pitch black -- Harry demanded it -- and Harry’s clothes were all on, his pants barely pulled down. When Louis got a hand around him, Harry had cringed and his body curled in on itself protectively, and Louis was so, so scared he was doing something wrong. If there were so many requirements needed to do this, and Harry was obviously so uncomfortable -- maybe they should just stop. But Harry begged him to keep going, not out of arousal or lust but out of a need to feel in control of his body, to get through this. 

He didn’t end up coming the first time; he barely even got half-hard. But he did the second time, about a month later, and he was so proud of himself, he cried with it. 

It took three months of Louis getting Harry off occasionally for Harry to even try to reciprocate it. There were no panic attacks or crying, and Louis did come, but Harry was clearly uncomfortable, and when he sat there with Louis’ come on his hand, looking sick, he glanced up at Louis and shook his head. 

“I don’t think I liked that,” he said, voice trembling. “I’m sorry.”

Louis felt like complete garbage, and he immediately apologized a thousand times, and Harry just shook his head, got up, washed his hands, and came back to bed. He didn’t blame Louis for anything, it was just -- no. He didn’t like it. It made him feel small and disgusting, so they didn’t attempt it again until a few months later.

He hated it a little less than the last time. They slowly worked up from there.

Louis blew Harry for the first time three years into their relationship, and due to the trust and understand they built up through the hand jobs, Harry actually enjoyed it. A lot. He wasn’t even really nervous, after the first few minutes. He felt awkward and clumsy and didn’t know what to do with his hands, but that wasn’t coming from fear, so it didn’t matter. And Harry didn’t -- and still hasn’t -- reciprocated that, because Harry can’t handle it. 

“It always hurt so bad,” he told him quietly one night. “There’s no way to get used to that. The other stuff -- most of the time, I could handle the pain, but with that. . . It was so traumatic. I don’t think I can ever get passed that.”

And Louis, who had the worst gag reflex imaginable for about the first year him and Harry started messing around when they were younger, didn’t need him to explain that anymore. 

Four months after that, Harry came to him one night with the proposal of “butt stuff” as he so eloquently put it, and Louis one-hunderd percent expected to be on the receiving end of it. He rarely bottomed with Harry when they were younger, but he usually did with Nick, so it’s not like he wasn’t used to it or didn’t like it or something. He thought that Harry doing the fucking rather than being fucked would be easier on his mind, that it would help keep things separated, but Harry wanted to be the one to get fingered that first night, and even though Louis was surprised, he didn’t say no. 

The first time Harry had a proper meltdown during anything sexual was the second time Louis fingered him. Before that, there had been time they had to stop because Harry was getting too panicked or anxious, but he had never actually completely freaked out until then.

Louis didn’t know what changed. One minute, he had three fingers lazily pumping in and out of Harry’s hole as he kissed him gently, and the next, Harry was shoving him away and yelling at him and crying hysterically. And what made it even worse, is that when Harry had abruptly shoved him off, Louis’ fingers painfully twisted out of Harry, who was clenching down in panic. It didn’t hurt him, physically, other than giving him a painful throb, but adding physical discomfort to his emotional pain didn’t help anyone.

“I want you to go,” Harry choked out, breathless and shaky. He was hiding his body under the blankets, and Louis just stood there, beyond confused. “Go. Go. I want you to go, so go. Get out.”

And once Louis managed to process what Harry was asking him, he immediately left the room and shut the door behind him. It took Harry four whole hours to come out, and it was only to take a shower before locking himself in the guest room. He ignored Louis’ verbal pleas and his texts and his knocking until the next afternoon. 

Something in his mind just flipped, Harry told him. And that was it. Something just went screwy in Harry’s head, and it left both Louis and Harry feeling extremely uncertain and scared to touch each other. 

For the next two months, they didn’t do anything more than kiss each other goodbye every morning and goodnight every night. 

Eventually, though, Harry felt okay enough to try it again, and just like the first time Louis fingered him, it was nice. There was no shouting or shoving or anything, and Harry came, and everything was fine, but they were both still so confused as to why the last time wasn’t. 

Still, they got passed it. They had to. Harry had setbacks all the time, it was stupid to think that he wouldn’t have them in their sexlife as well. 

The first time they actually had sex, they were both petrified. It took Louis a solid half hour to get hard, which made Harry feel a bit rejected even though he knew that Louis was just nervous. Harry laid flat on his back, and his hands clung to Louis’ shoulders. 

When Louis first started to push in, Harry’s face screwed up and he shifted, almost like he was trying to push Louis away. And he was, instinctively, but as soon as Louis pulled back because he thought that was what Harry wanted, Harry shook his head and pulled him closer. 

“I’m okay,” he said breathlessly, even though his hands were trembling and his face was twisted up and his chest was showing that he wasn’t breathing evenly. “Keep going.”

Even when he started crying, he was adamant that he wanted Louis to keep going, that he was enjoying it (he wasn’t, but he felt like he could have, if Louis kept going), and Louis couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He pulled out of Harry slowly and carefully, and he apologized to him in a whisper. 

“No, no, why’d you stop,” Harry cried, trying to pull Louis closer. Louis didn’t let him and he grabbed the blanket and covered Harry’s bottom half with it and shushed him quietly. 

“You’re crying, love,” Louis reasoned, reaching up to pet Harry’s hair. “I don’t feel comfortable doing anything while you’re crying.”

“But I’m okay,” Harry protested, even though he probably wasn’t. 

Louis shook his head sadly and slid on a pair of boxers. 

The next time they tried, it was the same exact thing. Barely a minute after Louis pushed all the way in, Harry was crying and his breathing got choppy, but he was adamant he was okay. The third time was unsuccessful as well. This time, they had tried something different; Louis was the one laying flat on his back, and Harry was going to try riding him. But Harry couldn’t convince himself to lower himself all the way down, he couldn’t convince his mind and body that it was okay and that it wasn’t going to hurt. He got about halfway down before he started crying, and immediately, Louis put a stop to it. 

“I hate myself,” Harry sobbed into his chest that night. “I do, Louis, I mean it. I hate myself. I hate myself so much.”

“Don’t say that,” Louis pleaded, holding him tightly. “Please, please don’t say that. I love you so much.”

“But  _ I _ hate myself. I’m so -- I’m so fucking stupid, I’m -- ”

“You’re not, you’re not, don’t -- ”

“I can’t even have sex with my  _ boyfriend! _ ”

“That doesn’t make you stupid, okay? You know I don’t have a problem with it, you know that I’ll wait forever. I don’t even care if we don’t have sex, okay? You know that. That hasn’t changed.”

Harry just shook his head and pushed Louis away. “I fucking hate myself,” he whimpered out again. 

After that, Louis refused to even try again. It scared Louis too much, and it made Harry too mad at himself, so Louis didn’t see the point in trying anymore. But that made Harry feel like Louis was giving up on him, which made everything so much worse, because then Louis had Harry begging him to fuck him every night and feeling completely rejected when Louis told him no. 

Six months after their first attempt and four months after their last, Louis finally felt like they were both in a position to try again. Harry finally stopped begging for it all the time, even though he didn’t really want to, and Louis stopped being so terrified of the idea, so they tried again. 

It didn’t work. Harry had a panic attack before Louis even had three fingers inside of him. And it left him feeling even more like failure than the last time. 

“I just give up,” Harry told him. “It makes no sense why I can handle you touching me in every way possible most days, but as soon as you try to fuck me, I can’t take it.”

“It makes a lot of sense,” Louis argued, but Harry just rolled his eyes and turned away. 

They tried a new approach the next time. Well, Harry did. It was all his idea. Louis kind of just went along with it, and it worked. 

Before Louis got home from work, Harry fingered himself in the shower so he was ready. When Louis got home and Harry, who was sitting on the couch, promptly told him to come fuck him in the shower, he was a bit confused, but followed anyway. 

It made sense, after. Harry felt less vulnerable in the shower, a sharp contrast from how he had been at Louis’ old apartment, and he liked that the hiss of the shower seemed to muffle any noise Harry was making. 

Harry still went completely rigid when Louis pushed inside of him, but he still does sometimes, even today. And neither of them came that time, but both of them still count it as their first successful attempt in having sex, because Harry felt content and sadted afterwards and he let Louis wash him off. 

They have sex once every month, about. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but on average, it’s about a month. Louis doesn’t mind it at all. He doesn’t need sex from Harry. And besides, it’s not like they don’t do anything. They do. They probably get off together five times a week when Harry’s doing well, they just don’t do it by having sex. It’s not a big deal. 

When they do have sex, though, Louis is alwasy maybe too careful and too gentle. And Harry always, always has to put his clothes back on afterwards. 

They haven’t had sex since Emma agreed to being their surrogate, and now they barely get off toegether once a week. Louis doesn’t even mention it, though; Harry’s just a little more quiet and guarded sometimes, and the minute he’s not feeling at his best, their intimacy gets gutted. It’s something that Louis is grateful for, in a way; he never has to be scared that Harry’s not being honest about how he’s feeling, because Harry has no problems anymore in telling Louis that he’s not in the mood. 

So, everything considered, he’s a little surprised when Harry crawls into bed a few nights later, sleepy-eyed from grading too many papers, and presses a hard kiss to Louis’ lips. 

“Can we do something tonight?” he asks, his hand reaching under Louis’ shoulder to rub gently at his belly. “I want to. Like, I’m feeling up for it.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, running his hand over Harry’s outer thigh. “You sure?”

Harry nods. “To be completely honest with you, I kind of want to make sure I still can? Is that. . . Is that okay?”

“That’s alright,” Louis agrees. He doesn’t want Harry worrying about if he can or can’t be intimate with Louis anymore; they might as well just see. The last time they had been sexual with one another was four months ago. “Have you gotten off by yourself at all? I’m just wondering.”

Harry nods. “A few times. I just want to have this sorted before the baby comes, you know? If we need to work on my intimacy issues again, like, I want to know that before she’s here.”

“That’s fair,” Louis agrees. Harry’s already going to feel so unsteady when she’s here, and being blindsided by an inability to be intimate with Louis again will make it worse. They might as well see now. 

They get off together without a problem, and Harry seems the most content with himself than he has in a while. 

  
  


Two weeks later, they’re sitting at a park bench with Moose lying stretched out in front of them. They didn’t walk to the park ten minutes away from their house, because Harry prefers to drive out to the one a half hour away in a completely different neighborhood. Sitting in an open area like that is enough to get Harry antsy since he can’t monitor who’s where at all times, so he wants to at least make sure they aren’t close to home in case somebody sees him. 

Louis doesn’t mind. Moose likes car rides. Louis gets the horrible suspicion that it’s because he thinks he’s going to see Nick, but Nick moved to England two years ago and only stops by maybe once a year to see the pets. Louis doesn’t mind, truly. He likes to be able to have Moose more during his last few years. 

“I have my therapy appointment tomorrow,” Harry says, staring out at the playground. Since it’s getting colder, not too many kids are playing outside, but there’s a few. Harry and Louis both envision their daughter at this park one day, once she’s big enough. 

“I know.” It’s been written on their calendar for months. 

Harry only goes to therapy once every two months for two hours. He used to see Kelly once every three weeks up until four years ago, and he liked that, even if he didn’t have that much to talk about with her anymore. It was more of a routine thing than anything else, but still, when Kelly retired early and moved to Hawaii with her husband, it left Harry in the worst condition he had been in  _ years _ . 

She tried to forewarn them, she did. She told Harry a month and a half before her last day that she couldn’t be his therapist anymore to try and give him adequate time to find a new one he liked, but it still sent him tumbling. He had been seeing Kelly for six years, and now she was leaving him. 

Harry had immediately shut down. It was terrifying, and a painful reminder at how fragile Harry’s mental health still was. He withdrew from everything, from Louis, from Niall, who has become Harry’s best friend. Everything. After his last appointment with Kelly, he quit his part time job at a local grocery store and laid in bed all day, every day. 

Louis didn’t blame Kelly for a second for any of it. She didn’t mean to rip the rug out from under Harry’s feet, and they all were completely shocked at how hard it hit Harry. They knew he struggled to handle big changes -- any changes, really -- but they had no way of knowing how badly this would impact Harry. 

It took Louis an entire month to convince Harry to try out a new therapist. In the meantime, he had been speaking with Kelly over the phone once a week for forty-five minutes. She sincerely wanted the best for him, and she was willing to keep that up for as long as Harry needed her to, but Louis knew that would be forever if he didn’t push Harry to find someone else. 

It was a long, long process, one that Louis was involved in every step of the way. He sat down next to Harry in every first session he had with a new therapist. 

They went through fifteen of them. 

Three of them were men, and that was simply the problem. Harry gets uncomfortable around men easier and has a hard time trusting them more than he does women. Four of them were too unsympathetic; Louis nearly strangled one of them to death when she had made a fuss about Harry wanting Louis to explain the core of his problems. 

“If you were fucking sex-trafficked, you would have a hard time telling that to a stranger, reguardless of your age,” he had snapped after she told Harry that he was old enough to speak up for himself as if he were a child. 

Louis flipped her off and dragged Harry out of the office. 

Two of them were just too far away -- Harry doesn’t go anywhere by himself, so he has to rely on someone else to drive him or at least come with him -- and five of them were fine to Louis, but to Harry, they were no’s. 

“There’s just something about her. . .” Harry always seemed to mutter after walking to the car after the appointment. “I don’t want to see her.”

Maria was the fifteenth therapist they saw, and she was young and soft and listened to everything Harry had to say intently. She didn’t write anything down as Harry stuttered through sentences, which was something that greatly soothed Harry. She didn’t look at all bothered by the fact that Harry had a hard time talking about any of it -- Louis never had gone to one of his therapy sessions with Kelly, so he had no idea at how vulnerable Harry looked when he was in therapy -- or that he had Louis answer some questions for him. 

And she had a cat poster in her office, and Louis swears to this day that that was the deciding factor for Harry. 

“Maybe you should talk to her about how you’re feeling about the baby,” Louis says gently. His anxiety about the whole thing is something he’s embarrassed about. Harry whispers to him every night that he promises he’s just as excited for her as Louis is, and that he’s just a little scared. 

Immediately, Harry looks down. Louis reaches over to squeeze his knee. “I’m not trying to say what you’re feeling is something to be ashamed of,” Louis promises. “It’s okay that you’re scared. I am, too, in some ways. I just want you to talk to her about it.”

“I’m going to love her so much, Louis, I promise,” Harry says, looking at him again. He looks desperate. “I already do love her, I swear. I’m -- I’m going to be a good father to her, I promise you.”

“I know that. Of course I know that.”

Harry ducks his head back down. Maybe he is the one who doesn’t believe it. Soon enough he’ll find that that’s not the truth, though. Harry is going to be a brilliant father, there’s no doubt about it. Louis has never, ever been scared of it being otherwise. 

“I’ll make sure I bring it up,” Harry mumbles after a minute. “But I’m going to be a good father.”

“The best,” Louis agrees, sliding into Harry’s side. 

Seeing Maria gives Harry the confidence to finally paint the baby’s room. They’ve had the paint cans and brushes sitting in there for months, but Harry also told Louis no, not yet.

When Harry brings it up the evening after his appointment, Louis immediately heads to her room and opens the paint cans. He can’t waste this feeling Harry has; chances are, Harry’s not going to feel this secure in the fact that they’ll have a child in two months until she’s actually here. 

Louis tackles two walls while Harry does the other two. Fleetwood Mac plays quietly from Harry’s phone, and even though Louis knows every word to every one of their songs thanks to Harry, he doesn’t sing along, because Harry’s singing quietly and he wants to listen. 

Harry’s careful while he’s painting. He’s taking his time and trying to make sure it looks perfect while Louis is just rolling the roller across the wall and hoping for the best. So it’s not exactly surprising that Louis finishes his two walls just as Harry’s starting his second. Louis moves his paint tin to help him finish up. 

It’s quiet aside from Harry’s singing, both of them focusing, until Harry turns to look at him. 

“Maria says we should have a conversation about how our lives are going to change after the baby comes,” Harry says. “But I think that’d be boring, ‘cause, like, of course our lives are going to change. Isn’t that the point?”

Louis nods. Harry’s nervous, not incomptent. He knows what a baby comes with. 

“I do want to talk about what I need from you when she’s here, though.” Harry’s voice is softer now, and his eyes have gone doe-eyed. “I need you to tell me when I’m being too much, okay?”

Louis furrows his eyebrows, confused. He goes to set his paint roller down, but Harry shakes his head sternly. “This is not going to be a depression conversation,” Harry says. “This is me being a responsible adult and looking out for all of our best interests.”

“Okay,” Louis says slowly. “But I don’t know what you mean.”

Harry shrugs and goes back to painting. “Just, like. The baby is probably going to make us both stressed. And if you feel like your plate is too full, or that you need some space, please let me know. Don’t try to take care of both of us if you can’t handle it.” He sighs, clearly being unable to express what he’s trying to. “She comes first, is all I’m trying to say. Like, if I’m doing bad for whatever reason, and you don’t have the strength to deal with us both, don’t worry about me. Take care of her first.”

“I will,” Louis promises. He still hasn’t gone back to painting. 

“And tell me if I’m not helping out enough,” Harry continues. “I’m serious. She’s both of ours, and even though you’re going to have more time to tend to her, I don’t want all the pressure on you. Obviously. Just, like. If I have my head up my ass and don’t realize you’re doing loads more than I am, tell me. Please. She’s not just your responsibility.”

“Okay,” Louis agrees. “Okay. But -- Haz. You’re going to be a good father. Most of it is going to come naturally. Don’t stress too much about this, alright?”

“I’m just saying,” Harry huffs quietly. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Harry sighs. “I’m terrified I’m going to get really badly depressed again. I don’t want my shit affecting the way I can take care of her.”

“H. . . “ Louis murmurs, not sure what to say. 

“I keep, like, picturing me being stuck in bed and her not understanding why I don’t want to play with her,” he whispers. “Or, like. Being home alone with her and hearing her cry and not being able to convince myself to go tend to her. Or having a panic attack in front of her.” When he looks to Louis, his eyes are glossy and wide. “That’d scare her so much. They scare _ you _ , sometimes, and she -- she’s not going to fully understand for a long, long time, and I’m just -- “ he huffs out a quiet laugh and shakes his head, going back to look at the wall. It’s almost finished. “I said this wasn’t going to be a depressing conversation.”

Louis watches him silently for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to say exactly. His knee-jerk reaction is to tell Harry that that’s not going to happen, or that he can’t dwell on all the bad that could happen, but he knows that’s not exactly fair. 

“Harry,” he says finally. Harry looks to him. “Your mental health issues aren’t going to go away just because we have a kid. You’ll feel poorly sometimes, that’s just. . . that’s a given. We can’t help that. And maybe one day we’ll have to explain to her why you get quiet sometimes, or why you’re tired sometimes, or -- or why you have panic attacks, and what they are. And maybe they might even scare her, I don’t know. But she’ll learn to understand, and she won’t care, because -- H. You’re her dad. And she’s going to love you unconditionally.”

“I hope so,” Harry whispers hoarsely. 

“No,” Louis says sternly. “I know so. She’ll adore you. I promise.”

By the time the walls are finished being painted a light shade of purple, Harry’s back to humming along to Fleetwood Mac quietly.

Niall and Harry have become the best of friends, as aforementioned. 

They text constantly and talk on the phone everyday for at least an hour. Niall’s over their house more often than anybody else, and Louis and Harry are Niall and Liz’s first son’s godparents. Second to only Louis, Niall is the one to get Harry to laugh the hardest. To smile the brightest. To get him to open up the most. They act like complete idiots when they’re around each other, and Louis thanks every star in the sky for Niall Horan’s existence. 

“Is it fine if Niall comes over for dinner?” Harry asks him one night, about three weeks later. Louis shrugs, not really caring. 

“You’re the one making dinner tonight, so I don’t mind.”

Harry grins and looks back down at his phone. 

Niall’s over for no more than half an hour when Louis gets a call from Alison, Emma’s sister, and immediately, he knows something’s not right. He quickly excuses himself from the table and says a tiny prayer before answering. 

“Are they alright?” he asks immediately. 

“Mostly,” Alison says, and before Louis can demand to know what the fuck  _ mostly _ means, Alison explains. “She went into early labor, Louis. She -- the baby’s fine. She’s healthy, apart from being a little tiny. And she’s here waiting to meet her parents, so if you could come, I -- ”

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, feeling lightheaded. That’s a lot to take in at once. She’s not due for another twenty-seven days. It’s only December second. But she’s healthy, Louis’ brain keeps supplying. Their little girl is fine. She’s healthy. And she’s here, waiting for them. 

The mostly rings loudly in his head, and the giddy feeling he’s consumed with stutters. “Wait. How’s Emma?”

“Okay,” Alison tells him, although she doesn’t sound so certain. “She’ll live, if that’s what you mean. She’s just in a lot of pain. They couldn’t do an epidural, and there was a lot of bleeding, but. . . But Louis, don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine. Just come meet your daughter, please.”

“I’ll be there in, like, ten minutes,” Louis promises, and just as he pulls the phone away from his ear, he can hear Alison scold him and tell him not to speed. 

He rushes back to the dining room, where Niall and Harry are laughing loudly over something that’s probably not even funny. As soon as Louis rushes in, they fall silent, and Harry looks like he might puke. 

“She’s here,” Louis breathes out, excitement and emotion crawling up his throat. He’s going to cry, and that’s okay, because he’s officially a dad. “She’s here, and she’s healthy, and Alison is going to kill us if we don’t get there soon, so -- “

Harry hurries from his seat, scaring Penny, who is curled up on the seat beside him. Niall is grinning while Harry kind of still looks like he might puke, but it doesn’t fucking matter, because they’re going to be parents. They  _ are  _ parents,  _ shit _ .

Niall drives, because both Louis and Harry are too shaky to do it themselves safely. They’re both shaking from excitement, and a bit of fear, too, because they’re baby is just a little premature. But mostly excitement. 

“We’re dads, Hazza,” Louis whispers, and Harry laughs, sounding only a bit hysterical. 

“We don’t even have a name for her,” he blurts, and oh -- right. That. . . is kind of important. But Louis doesn’t even fucking care. They’re fucking parents. 

Niall cackles loudly from the front seat. “You have a middle name and a last name. Close enough.”

They agreed on Anne as a middle name almost immediately, and Harry and Louis got their last name hyphoned. So she’s going to be Something Anne Tomlinson-Styles. Or she is already. 

Jesus Christ. They have a child. She’s here. Right now. 

They arrive at the hospital ten minutes later, and within two minutes, they’re staring down at their little baby girl sleeping soundly in a little bed. Louis, who started crying the second he saw her, reaches down to touch her, but Harry quickly grabs his hand before he can. 

“She’s sleeping,” he whispers. “Don’t wake her. Let her sleep. She’s had a tiring day.”

Louis laughs quietly and pulls Harry into his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Okay. Okay. We can wait.”

“Not too long. Just. . . just a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Louis agrees. “Just a few minutes.”

It’s hard deciding who to pay more attention to; Harry, who looks like he’s in awe, or their sleeping baby. He wants to look at them both, forever. 

It takes Harry two minutes for him to cave and reach down to touch her. He brings his and Louis’ hand down together, and they rest it on her little belly, as gently as possible. She stirs, and then opens her mouth, and Harry braces himself for a sharp cry that doesn’t come. She kind of just blinks off to the side before realizing there’s people hovering over her, and then -- 

And then she does cry, but Louis can’t blame her.

Harry immediately shushes her and gently -- so, so gently -- picks her up. Louis immediately goes to steady her and provide more support than what is probably necessary. 

“She’s so cute, shit,” Louis whispers, and Harry laughs, although he looks a little stunned himself. 

“The first sentence she’s ever heard you say has a swear word in it,” Harry mumbles, and Louis rolls his eyes fondly. He’s crying again. He’s not sure he stopped. Harry’s got tears running down his face, too. 

She’s beautiful. She’s -- and it’s not if cliche if it’s true -- she’s perfect. 

Louis’ the one who thinks of the name Kacey, and immediately, it just fits her. Harry loves it, and as he stares down at her and runs his finger over her cheek, he gasps and looks at Louis. 

“That means her initials will me K.A.T.S.,” Harry realizes, grinning widely. “Like cats, but with -- ”

“I think we all get it, Haz,” Niall interrupts, laughing. He shakes his head, although he’s smiling wide. He’s just met his goddaughter; of course he’s going to be happy. 

Louis is happy, too. So, so happy. All the worries he had seem so insignificant right now, and he’s sure that Harry feels the same. That might not last, but it’s okay. 

Louis comes over to stand behind Harry again and wraps his arms around Harry’s middle. Harry immediately leans back into him, sighing happily. 

“She was almost our anniversary present,” Harry says quietly. “Just a day late.”

“And twenty-seven days early,” Louis reminds, and Harry laughs quietly.

“Doesn’t matter now. She’s still a winter baby. That’s all I really wanted.”

Louis nods. They’re a family full of winter babies. It makes his heart warm. 

“I love you, Harry,” Louis whispers, squeezing him. He reaches down to squeeze little Kacey’s hand, barely more than a soft touch. “I love her, too.”

“I love you, too,” Harry whispers back. “Both of you. So much. The two best things to happen to me.”

Niall gags behind him, making them both laugh. The noise makes Kacey’s eyes flutter open, and looking down into her eyes, everything else fades away except for her and Harry.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!! leave a comment if you want :)  
> (also, ignore the time line errors, i tried to fix them but noticed them too late lol)


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